


darkest minds

by deletetheadjectives



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2020-11-07 23:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deletetheadjectives/pseuds/deletetheadjectives
Summary: Almost two years after Rome, Eve is living a bitter life as a dish washer in London—the only job she could get without proper identification when Carolyn made sure Eve Polastri was dead to those who knew her.Following a tip from an unexpected source, Eve learns of Villanelle’s location: working as a waitress in a diner in the Middle-of-Nowhere, USA.And so Eve’s plans for revenge start to form…





	1. Two Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> “The struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting.” – Milan Kundera

_LONDON, England._

Eve never thought of herself as an evil person. Not explicitly. Sure, when someone would accidentally ram their shopping cart into her heels in the middle of the frozen food aisle, she may have had thoughts of homicide. But those were more fantastical and less sinister.

She liked to think she once devoted her life to eradicating evil—or at least eradicating it in the sense of removing it from society. Long days and nights spent hunting those with darker minds than she, interrogating them and pulling horrific stories from them.

Stories that would make any normal person lose sleep, and possibly their minds, but Eve was fascinated by them. What drove them to do what they did, what lies _inside _their minds.

She imagines someone is probably studying the events that transpired between herself and Villanelle at this very moment, pouring over the details. _She _stabbed _her, a known assassin and psychopath?! And then she was shot by her?! What an idiot!_

But now Eve is on the outside. She knows nothing of the goings-on at MI6 because she’s technically…dead. At least, that is what she was told by Carolyn as she leant over her hospital bed in the dark of night, somewhere on the outskirts of Rome.

“After all of this, Eve Polastri is no more, I’m afraid,” she whispered with a furrowed brow. “Yes, quite a mess really. I suggest you have no further contact with your husband, as that connection is now surely…severed.”

She then stood back up, buttoned her coat and left Eve with a short nod. “Good luck, to whoever you will be now. I hope you choose wisely this time.”

That was almost two years ago.

Now, Eve works as a lowly dishwasher in London, grinding the grease off of the plates and silverware the wait staff haphazardly tosses in the sink. Once she was able to get back on her feet, she made her way back to London with her head down and life practically over. She didn’t try to contact anyone from MI6—specifically Jess or Kenny, but even Hugo, who she still didn’t know whether was alive or dead—and the feeling was obviously mutual.

So she worked day and night, tirelessly, pretending to be Susan, while Eve was buried. Literally and metaphorically.

Many at the restaurant were scared of her and kept their distance. She was quiet, worked hard and spent her breaks chain-smoking by the back dumpsters, a habit she picked up to deal with the anxiety that seemingly ruled her life. Those that attempted conversation were immediately shut down, and not politely either.

_“Hey, Susan, so what are you up—”_

_“Absolutely not,” she snipped. _

And that was how she preferred it. She could go without forming any personal relationships that were only bound to crash and burn. For once, she could at least control the turns as her life spiraled away from her.

* * *

They appeared during her break on a late night shift.

She was in the process of yanking off her cap and digging in the pockets of her pants for her cigarettes when she saw the shadow of someone looming against the other side of the dumpsters.

She immediately released her hold of the pack, sighing and leaning back again the brick wall. Did they finally find her? Were they here to end it? Could it even be Villanelle, to do it herself?

But the person who came out of the shadows was not who she expected. She recognized her as Konstantin’s daughter, now a little older and little more mature looking, though she still had the same haircut and the gentle eyes of her father.

“Irina,” she breathed.

The girl crossed her arms over her chest uncomfortably, looking down at her feet as if unsure of why she was stood in front of a woman she barely knew, who once helped her halt the bleeding of her father as he lay gasping on the floor of that Russian café.

“Hello Eve,” she replied in her slightly accented English. “I am sorry to approach you in the dark of night like this.”

Eve swallowed, not completely off her guard yet. “It’s fine. It’s just…it’s been a while.”

“I wouldn’t come if it wasn’t important,” she stepped forward, and Eve could see from the slight glow of the backdoor light above their heads that she was tightly grasping what looked like a piece of paper.

“Are you ok? Is it your father?”

“No. Well, yes, sort of. He doesn’t know I’m here. It is for the best,” she said solemnly. “He would kill me if he knew. Which sounds like a joke, but I am not sure.”

Eve rocked back on her heels, looking over her shoulder quickly to make sure none of her coworkers were coming out to surprise them.

“What is it, Irina?”

The girl sighed, looking down at the paper in her hands before thrusting it in Eve’s direction. “Here. Just take it. Before I change my mind.”

Eve looked at the paper between them, hesitant. “I don’t know if—”

“Please,” she insisted.

Eve took the paper, looking down at it concernedly. What the hell was this? The names of The Twelve, perhaps? Or maybe their plans to have her killed? Was Irina being kind in relaying the message ahead of time?

She looked up at Irina again, who was watching her expectantly. She unfolded it like it was a piece of glass, staring down at the scribbled words revealed.

“An address?” she asked, looking up. An address in the U.S., to be precise.

“Yes,” was Irina’s stoic reply. “That is all I know. And I know because I am quite the accomplished eavesdropper. And because my father does not know how to close his tabs.”

Eve shook her head, staring at the girl. “What do I do with this? An address in—” she looks down “Delaware? What the hell is this, Irina?”

Irina rolled her eyes, revealing more of the young girl that Eve remembered. “It’s where _she_ is.”

“She? She who? Am I supposed to be a mind reader?”

“No, but you’re supposed to be smart,” Irina blurted out, then quickly closed her mouth at Eve’s raised eyebrow. “I am sorry; I have my father’s temper.”

She touched her finger to the paper, tapping it gently.

“Villanelle. Oksana. She is here,” she said.

Eve dropped the paper as if it had caught fire in her grasp. Before even a second passed, she bent down, scooping it back up. “What? How? Why?”

“You are asking too many questions,” Irina responded, tucking her hands into her pockets. “I do not know. But I thought you should know this, at least.”

“What is this really? Some kind of low key hit? Does Konstantin want me to kill her? Because that’s the only thing that will happen if I see her again.”

“No. Unless that is your prerogative. But you must know, she is…different now.”

“Different,” Eve asked quizzically, stepping back. “Different _how_?”

Irina shrugged. “That is all I will say, and besides, it is your choice of what you wish to do. I have just relayed the message,” she said. “She shot my dad, but those were also some of the most fun hours of my life, leading up to it. So.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything. But if you wanted to, I don’t know, see her again…you should have that choice. To know where she is. To help her, not that she needs it, but if she did…”

Eve crumpled the paper, shoving it in her pocket. “I would _never _help her after what she did to me. Look around, Irina. Look at _me_. Look what she did to my life. My good life. My good job, my good husband. Gone—_poof_,” she laughs, a little hysterically. This is now the longest conversation she’s had in two years.

“Oooo-kay,” Irina said, her eyes looking left and right dramatically. “But you started it.”

“_What?”_

Irina put her hands up defensively. “I am just being honest. You went after her first, no? So you started it. And now, if you wish, you can end it. With words, I think, no more bloodshed. But do not murder the message giver.”

“Kill the messenger.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Eve shook her head again. “Thank you, Irina. But you should just go home. Wherever that is now.”

Irina stared at her for a beat, before shrugging once more. “Okay, I am going. But please, Eve, if you do go. Just…be patient. Understanding.”

Eve returned her stare, saying nothing.

Irina sighed. “Bye, Eve.” And then she was gone.

But Eve stood as if rooted there, where her coworker found her ten minutes later, chest close to heaving and her hands wrapped tightly around the paper in her pocket.


	2. A Little Help From My Friend

The paper sat on her bedside table for approximately two weeks.

When she would roll over in the morning to turn off the alarm on her phone, she could feel it staring at her, almost yelling her name. _Do it, Eve. Go get her, Eve. _

But she ignored it, coming so close each time to just chucking it into the trash.

She wouldn’t lie, a part of her was genuinely curious to find out what Villanelle was up to. Was she tearing her way across the United States, doing hits for some new organization that recruited her? Or was she biding her time, knowing Eve would be on her tail after the tip from Irina?

Despite her curiosity, and despite an overwhelming need to seek revenge on the woman who shot and left her to die in Rome, she could not bring herself to go after her.

And then…a third week passed, and it was like the paper was burning a hole in her table. One night she found herself looking up flights from London to Philadelphia, laying out her exact route to wherever this hideout of Villanelle’s was.

However, she knew she couldn’t go at this alone. She couldn’t throw herself into another situation with Villanelle that could ultimately leave her dead, and although there weren’t many people that she could turn to at this point in her life, there was one.

Which is how she ended up spinning a beer bottle nervously in front of an equally uncomfortable Kenny.

“Did you know I was alive?” was the first thing she asked him.

He hesitated, but nodded his head. “While my mum is secretive about a lot, that was one thing she allowed me to know. Although it was pretty obvious when you weren’t part of the cleanup operation. Except for, you know, transporting you to that hospital. But I wasn’t part of that.”

Eve listened silently, letting out a small smile for the first time in a while. “I’ve missed you. And I know you tried to tell me, and that the whole situation was—_is_ fucked, but you’re still the only friend I have after all of this. And the only person that knows I’m even alive.”

“Yeah, my mum can be pretty thorough on that front,” he grimaced. “And I’ve missed you too, Eve, but I have to ask. What am I doing here?”

Eve leant back in her booth, digging for the paper in her pocket and then tossing it on the table between them. Kenny glanced at it, glanced back at her, and then down to the paper again.

“What is it?”

“An address. In the states,” Eve replied, unfolding the paper and sliding it towards him.

He took it with a furrowed brow. “Where is Delaware?” he asked, followed by a quieter, “_What_ is Delaware?”

“It’s a state on the East Coast. And that address is supposedly where Villanelle is hiding out.”

Kenny dropped the paper and shoved it back towards her. “No.”

“Kenny, just—”

“I said no Eve, are you crazy?” He stood, throwing his jacket back on. He paused, thinking about his next words carefully. “Eve, I’ve watched her tear your life apart. I tried to warn you to stay away last time, and look how well that turned out.”

Eve grabbed his arm. “Kenny, hear me out. That’s all I’m asking.”

Kenny sighed, looking down at her hand on his arm and the desperate look in her eyes. “How does she do this to you, every time? It’s like you have tunnel vision, and you won’t even think of your own safety. She almost killed you last time, Eve.”

He sat back down, but kept his jacket on this time.

“I know,” Eve closed her eyes, rubbing a hand over her face. “I know. But this time, I’m going to end it.”

“You’re going to try to kill her?” he asked incredulously.

Eve rolled her eyes. “No, Kenny. While I feel like that would be totally justified, I’m not going to try and kill her. But I think there is still something left unfinished between us. And I don’t know what that is, but I can’t keep living like…like I’m not still _attached _to her in some way.”

Kenny seemed to digest that for a moment. “So, where do I come in with all of this?”

“I just need help running surveillance on this place. Where it is, what it is, whether she’s been seen in the area,” Eve began. “I want to know if this address could be linked to The Twelve in any possible way, and that I’m not walking into some kind of trap.”

Kenny gripped the paper for a moment, and Eve was afraid he might rip it up right in front of her. But he reached into his pocket, took out his phone and snapped a quick photo of the address. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Kenny. Seriously.”

Kenny was standing in front of the booth again. “Just know I’m doing this so you can finally get out if it Eve. After this, I don’t want to talk to you if it has anything to do with her.”

“Of course. And I know this goes without saying, or maybe it doesn’t, but if you could maybe not mentioned this to—”

“To my mum, I know. Don’t worry, I haven’t spoken to her in months.”

Eve’s mouth opened in shock.

“You’re not the only one who wanted out of all this,” was all he said, before he headed back out into the night.

* * *

An e-mail arrives in her inbox the next night from Kenny.

_Eve—_

_I tracked the address to a diner in Delaware. It opened in 1957, and is a very popular dinner spot for locals. I couldn’t find any direct information linking Villanelle to the diner, but I did read a Yelp review from a few months ago that included a description of a ‘nice, blonde Russian waitress’ that worked there. _

_I also hacked into their parking lot surveillance cameras and was able to get the available footage from the last week and I have her arriving and leaving the diner on multiple occasions. I’ve attached some files for you to confirm on your own. _

_I don’t know what exactly her game is with this diner, but please Eve, be careful. Good luck._

_Kenny_

Eve sat back, momentarily stunned. A diner? Villanelle was working in a diner, and seemingly has been for a certain amount of time? Eve couldn’t imagine the girl having the patience or humility to eat in a diner, let alone work in one.

To quell any disbelief, Eve clicked on one of the attachments, which pulled up a short, choppy black and white surveillance video of an average looking parking lot. It was pointed out towards a highway, and Eve watched for a few seconds before she could see a small sedan pulling in.

Seconds later, a blonde head popped out of the car, followed by the familiar tall and lithe figure of Villanelle.

There was no doubt about it, it was definitely Villanelle, dressed in a waitress uniform and clutching what looked like an apron. She was even wearing what looked like non-slip white trainers, similar to what Eve wore at her own restaurant.

Eve continued watching the footage as Villanelle closed the car door, looked at something on her phone and then put it into her bag before walking towards the diner, disappearing from the camera's sight.

Eve blew out a breath of air she didn’t realize she’d been holding, shutting her laptop at the same time.

“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just moving the story along, we'll get to the fun stuff soon.


	3. Just Breathe

The plane hits a patch of turbulence somewhere over the Atlantic and Eve thinks maybe that’s a sign that this whole idea was a mistake. Or maybe the plane will just plunge into the sea and put her out of her misery.

The paper with the address for Villanelle’s diner is stuffed into her purse amongst various candy wrappers and three rolls of chapstick (you never know).

She’s seated next to a woman and her baby who has not stopped crying and whining since the flight took off, and they’re about five hours in. She could just put on her noise cancelling headphones and switch on a movie on the seatback TV, but she can’t help but be reminded of Bill with every screech.

Specifically, her back stiff against the pew as she watched his daughter cry at his funeral, her screams echoing against the walls of the church as if trying to reach the heavens.

Oh how naïve she was then, to think she’d be able to kill Villanelle for what she’d done to him. She was beginning to get the feeling that Villanelle was simply immortal. Sometimes she has nightmares that heavily feature that moment her knife slipped into soft skin, and of blood so vast and viscous it was reminiscent of that scene from _The Shining._

So here she sits, torturing herself by listening to the baby continue to cry as if it's some kind of punishment for not avenging Bill’s death.

That doesn’t mean that she hasn’t been plotting her own plans of revenge. Because she _has _been plotting. You don’t get shot in the back and not dream of wringing the person’s neck that did it, or of maybe stabbing them again.

Well, that’s how she felt for at least the week after she woke up, when she was all alone in an Italian hospital with doctors who hardly spoke any English. As the months dragged on, that fire in her belly started to dissipate until it settled into a feeling of certain, simple hatred.

Or, that’s what she’ll call it for now.

_Fine line between love and hate, there is, _she can almost hear Bill say.

“Shut up Bill,” she whispers, before slipping on her headphones. 

* * *

The plane touches down in Philadelphia around 6 p.m., so she decides to stay at one of the airport’s hotels for the night before getting an Uber in the morning to head to Delaware.

She drops her suitcase on the bed with a sigh, followed by her own body. She rolls over onto her stomach before reaching over to dig her phone out of her purse.

Her eyes glance over a second e-mail from Kenny that came through the morning of her flight, detailing some extra surveillance he was able to pull on Villanelle. By tapping into the cameras on the highway near the diner, he was able to piece together Villanelle’s route back to where she was living.

She tapped the address into Google Maps and using street view she was able to see that Villanelle was supposedly residing in a ranch-style house in a small neighborhood only ten minutes away from the diner.

While Eve weighed the option of dropping in on her in her own home, she thought it would be safer to approach her first at the diner, just to make sure there were witnesses in case things got out of hand. 

Also, she had no idea what she was even going to say. This whole trip had been truly of the moment and something that the Eve of four years ago would never even think of doing. Of course, that Eve used to come home every night, kiss her husband, eat his home cooked meal and then watch television for an hour or two before nodding off with a half-finished glass of wine in her hand. Every single night, almost exactly the same. Delicious monotony.

While Villanelle seemingly wrecked her life, she also made it…exciting. Interesting. Two words Eve would _never_ use to describe her life B.V. (before Villanelle).

However, she would prefer to leave North America with her life, period, so catching Villanelle off guard in private was not an option.

She swiped to her phone’s photo gallery, pulling up a screenshot Eve had taken from the surveillance footage of Villanelle standing beside her car, looking down at her phone.

Eve smirked silently. For once, it was Villanelle that didn’t know what was coming.

* * *

She wakes up an hour before her alarm goes off, popping out of bed like it was Christmas morning. She takes a quick shower, brushing her teeth under the warm spray.

While she’s getting dressed she hears the sound of her phone receiving a new text, and she checks it to see a message from Kenny.

_Be smart._

She snorts, throwing her phone down on the bed before zipping up her suitcase and stuffing her toiletries bag into the front pocket. She plugs the diner’s address into the Uber app before heading down to the hotel lobby, grabbing a donut from the complimentary breakfast on her way out.

The driver attempts to make conversation with her but her monosyllabic answers eventually lead him to desert the conversation and turn up the radio, which Eve is thankful for. It’s a 45-minute drive from the airport to Newark, Delaware, where the diner resides along a stretch of highway full of fast food joints and strip malls.

More than any feelings of anger or revenge, Eve just wants to know how Villanelle got there. The town is not necessarily seedy, but it was literally the last place on earth she’d ever expect to find Villanelle. Which, now that she thinks about it, make complete sense.

When the drive pulls into the diner parking lot, she realizes she doesn’t even know whether the woman will be working today. She should have gotten Kenny to try to track down her schedule or something.

She checks her watch to find she’s arrived about thirty minutes after the diner’s opened, and the nervousness in her stomach settles a bit when she sees Villanelle’s car sitting in the parking lot, mixed with a few others.

She gets out of the car and gratefully takes her suitcase from the driver after he pulled it from the trunk, and then shifts her purse to her shoulder. She squints her eyes as she looks through the large front windows of the diner, and that’s when she spots her.

She’s standing behind the counter, pouring coffee for an older gentleman and smiling at him as he talks away at her. Her honey-blonde hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and her face is as clear and bright as it always is, even at approximately eight in the morning.

Eve almost breathes a sigh of relief, to see that nothing's _really _changed about her, if you disregard the the waitress uniform. Somehow in all the madness of the last two years, Villanelle has remained constant.

She drags her suitcase in through the front door, careful not to draw too much attention to herself. She looks over quickly to see that Villanelle is still engaged in conversation with the man and hasn’t even looked her way.

So, she walks around the corner and seats herself in a booth overlooking the McDonald’s next door, putting her phone face down near the window.

She almost jumps out of her seat when a young busboy places a glass of water in front of her along with a menu, and she smiles and apologizes at his confused glance.

“Someone will be right with you,” he said before going back to the kitchen area.

She looks back over towards the counter and sees Villanelle still deep in conversation with the man, and she was now leaning forward on the counter and talking animatedly with her hands in a way she’s never seen before.

She must have put a lot of work into this character.

The longer Eve sits in the booth, the more she has a chance to realize what exactly she is doing and what exactly she’s throwing herself back into. She feels herself start to hyperventilate, so she grabs the glass of water and downs half of it in a few gulps.

“What am I doing?” she asked herself. “What the _fuck _am I doing?”

She doesn’t wait for herself to answer before grabbing her suitcase and purse and hurrying towards the front door without a backwards glance. She hits the parking lot and takes a deep breath before rounding the corner of the building to escape any chance of Villanelle spotting her.

She takes a moment to catch her breath, and her sanity, and goes into her purse to grab her phone and text Kenny what an idiotic idea this whole thing was and that she was booking the first flight back to London.

Except her phone wasn’t in her bag. It was face down on the table in the diner.

She closes her eyes and almost screams before going back around the corner—and then, she almost really does scream, because there stands Villanelle, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun as she scans the parking lot and the other grasping Eve’s phone at her hip.

She must have heard Eve’s footsteps because she turns to her, and smiles slightly, holding up the phone.

“This yours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm uploading at random now, so bear with me as I try to figure out some kind of schedule.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kind words on the first two chapters! I'm so glad everyone is enjoying it. Obviously the next chapter will be a bit more fun.


	4. You Would Think I Was The Bad Guy

Eve doesn’t think she’s experienced silence quite like this before.

She’s staring at Villanelle, who is staring right back and holding out Eve’s phone to her. The morning light is still bright and causing the woman to squint slightly.

And Eve keeps staring, at a loss for words. All the words she thought she’d have to throw at Villanelle if and when she saw her again are suddenly…gone. Stifled at the back of her throat, where she feels like she’s choking on them a bit.

But most of all, she’s waiting for Villanelle to say something first. A snide, biting remark, a joke about her current state of dress (frumpy, tired, dull colors), or even an acknowledgement that once again, Eve has tracked her down like a desperate fool.

Except Villanelle does none of that. Instead, she lowers her arm between them from where she’d had it outstretched, offering the phone back to Eve, and now looks uncomfortable.

Eve doesn’t think she’s ever seen that look on her face.

“Um…” Villanelle starts, gently. “Or maybe it’s not your phone?”

Eve sputters out a laugh, and Christ, she’s actually missed that damn Russian lilt. “Are you _kidding_ me?”

“Sorry?” Villanelle responds, backing up slightly with a furrowed brow.

“That’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Well, I…uh. I’m sorry,” she says, pausing for a moment. “Is this your phone…ma’am?”

Eve almost slaps her. Again.

“You _know_ what I mean,” she persists, though this time she snatches the phone out of Villanelle’s hand.

“I’m afraid I don’t. I was talking with Mr. Chapman and Jake told me I had a new table, but when I checked you were already scuttling out of the door,” Villanelle explained, jerking her thumb towards the diner. “When I checked the table, your phone was there. I’m sorry if I offended you for some reason.”

She’s interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming shut and suddenly there’s another girl in a waitress uniform stood next to Villanelle, arms crossed across her chest and looking at Eve warningly.

“Everything ok V?”

Eve realizes she must look crazed, hair barely combed and eyes wild as she takes in Villanelle’s indifference to the entire situation. She then takes a moment to realize the name tag attached to Villanelle's uniform simply reads “V.” Was she even trying with this disguise? 

“Everything’s fine,” Eve tells the girl. “Your friend V and I know each other.”

Villanelle barks out a laugh. “No we don’t.”

Eve scoffs. “_Yes_, we do.”

The other girl, whose name is Kate according to her own name tag, tugs on Villanelle’s arm. “C’mon, V. My shift starts in five. This lady is crazy, what did I tell you about engaging?”

“The fact that you think I’m the crazy one is _rich_,” Eve replied.

But Eve is starting to feel like maybe she is the crazy one, because Villanelle is looking at her like she’s never seen her before. At first she thought that she was just fucking with her, playing some kind of weird mind game, but no. While Eve has never had the chance to see a small glimpse of fear in Villanelle’s eyes, she thinks she’s seeing it now.

Kate tugs on her arm again and Villanelle follows her slowly, looking back at Eve tentatively. She pulls loose for a moment, approaching Eve again.

“I am sorry if I offended you in some way, but I just wanted to give you your phone back,” she said. “And I get it…we all have our off days.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eve snorts, because she’s still not quite believing this act.

Villanelle rocks back on her heels and puts her hands up as if in surrender. “I tried.” She walks back over to Kate, holding the door open for her and taking one last wary glance towards Eve before disappearing back into the diner.

Eve shakes her head and watches her go, looking down at her phone to see a notification from Kenny.

_Please tell me you’re still alive._

She rolls her eyes before pulling the Uber app back up and plugging in the address for her new hotel where she hopes she can regroup from…whatever the hell just happened. She can feel eyes on her as she waits at the edge of the parking lot for her ride, and she turns to find Villanelle watching her from behind the counter of the diner.

Mr. Chapman is back to yapping at her, but her eyes remain focused on Eve, one eyebrow raised. She continues to watch as Eve climbs into the car, and Eve swears she can still feel her watching the car as it coasts down the highway.

She pulls her phone back out of her bag and composes a reply to Kenny.

_Alive and well. But I don’t know if I can say the same for Villanelle. Will talk later._

She shoves her phone back into her bag and drops her head back onto the seat rest with a sigh. She feels the buzz of her phone again almost immediately.

_You killed her?!_

Eve’s certain her pupils touch the back of her skull when she rolls her eyes this time.

* * *

By the time she gets to the hotel, it’s overcast and has started to drizzle a bit. The diner is only about a fifteen minute drive from her new temporary residence, but in that time the sun disappeared and clouds had rolled in.

She checks into her room and is dialing Kenny’s number as soon as she puts her bags down.

“So you’re saying you don’t think she remembers you?” he asks, sounding incredulous. “It’s only been two years since you’ve seen her.”

“Kenny, I’m saying she looked at me like she’s never seen me before.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Tell me about it,” Eve sighs, tucking an arm under head as she lays in bed. “I swear, Kenny, the way she looked at me…like _I _was screwing up _her_ day. Like the last time we saw each other she didn’t shoot _me_ in the back.”

There’s a sudden knock on her door and she pops up on her elbows. “Sorry Kenny, I think that might be the maid. I’ll call you back.”

She hangs up and approaches the door, peering through the peephole but the glass is smudged and painted over slightly.

“If it’s the maid, I don’t need any turndown service this morning, thanks,” she calls through the door.

There is no reply or footsteps moving away and after a few moment there is another flurry of knocks.

"Seriously, I checked in thirty minutes ago, the room is fine," she calls again, but she is only met with another set of knocks. 

She swings open the door, annoyed, and almost screams when she takes in the bearish figure of Konstantin in the frame, the end of an umbrella poised as if to knock against her door again.

He lowers the umbrella and smiles warmly at Eve.

“It seems my daughter has been naughty.”


	5. Tough Nut To Crack

Eve should be more surprised, but she’s really not.

Ever since Irina showed up at the restaurant, Eve had just been waiting for Konstantin to follow shortly after, with either a threat or a warning. There’s no way he wasn’t keeping tabs on his daughter, especially when it was in regards to Villanelle.

So now here he stood, wearing his usual heavy jacket and grasping a bag of peanuts. He popped one into his mouth, motioning to the room behind her.

“May I come in?”

Eve paused for a moment before opening the door wider and making a sweeping motion with her hand. “Please.”

He sauntered in, dropping his umbrella by the door and taking a seat in the desk chair with a heavy sigh. Eve sat on the bed across from him and crossed her arms uncomfortably, not sure where to begin.

“So, I guess ‘how did you find me?’ is a stupid question at this point,” she started.

He let out a light chuckle and cracked another peanut with his back teeth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “Hm. Yes. It was not so hard.”

A silence settled over the room, and both of them were seemingly daring the other to broach the subject first. Eve tapped her fingers on her leg, looking at a spot on the wall above Konstantin’s shoulder, while he continued piling peanuts into his mouth.

Eve gave in first. Naturally.

“What the fuck is Villanelle doing as a waitress?”

There was no response or reaction at first, just a blank stare from Konstantin, until he finally broke into his boisterous laugh. Eve had no choice but to join in as well, though hers was a bit more desperate sounding.

But then he abruptly ceased the laughter and looked at her seriously.

“I should just tell you to go home, Eve,” he said. “It is not worth the trouble.” He shook his head, tossing the now empty bag of peanuts onto the desk behind him and lifting himself out of the chair with a grunt.

“No!” she said, stepping in his path. “I know it looks like I’m chasing her again, and okay maybe I was, but I _know_ there is something different about her, Konstantin. I saw her. Today.”

He sighed disappointedly. “I know. I watched.”

“Wha-? How? Wait, never mind. That doesn’t matter. What matters is there is something strange going on with Villanelle and we need to figure out what that is because _obviously_ the people in that diner aren’t safe. Or she is fucking with me, and _I’m _not safe.”

“Sit down, Eve,” he instructed her, sitting back in the desk chair. He reached into the front pocket of his jacket and brought out another bag of peanuts. “There...was an accident.”

“What?”

“She was in car accident,” he repeated, enunciating his words. “Almost one year ago.”

He tore open the bag and grabbed a few nuts, shoveling them into his mouth.

“She had a job here on the East Coast. Big deal to be sent to America. Big money. They gave her a big fancy car when she landed. She crashed it less than an hour later,” he explained slowly. “They brought her to a hospital here, in Delaware.” 

Eve watched him in shock. “How?”

“Texting,” he said solemnly. “She was okay, mostly, but-“ he brought his pointer finger to his temple, tapping it lightly. “Hit her head. Not so good.”

“So, what? That’s it? She bumps her head and suddenly forgets everything and I’m just supposed to believe that.”

Konstantin shrugged. “I have no particular care either way. But it is true. I would say you can ask her, but that I would not advise.”

Eve stood, pacing the room in front of him. He watched her go back and forth, continuing to munch on his snack.

“This is almost, like, too convenient for her,” Eve said, still in disbelief. “And The Twelve are just okay with all of this?”

“They watch her. I watch her, from time to time. Make sure she is still…forgetting.”

“And what does she think? Does she have any idea who she is?”

“No. She knows she was in an accident, lost her memories, but she does not know more than that. She is almost…happy. Now.”

“What if she’s just pretending? What if she remembers and she’s just playing you? Playing everyone?”

“I have thought about that,” he admitted. “But I know Villanelle. And she...is not her.”

Eve digested that statement for a moment. “Is there any way she will ever remember?”

“She still sees a doctor here that says there is still hope, or that is what Irina gathered from hacking into her files,” he said.

He stood up again, scooping both empty bags of peanuts and tossing them in the trash can.

“I do not know what you came here to do, and I do not care.”

And then he reached for his umbrella and walked to the door, Eve watching him go from her perch on the bed.

“Be careful, Eve,” he said. As _everyone_ seems to say to her.

And then he was gone.

* * *

Eve walked back into the diner a few hours after her conversation with Konstantin, taking a careful seat at the bar. The guy from that morning swung by, looking at her oddly once again, before placing a menu and a glass of water in front of her.

He didn’t bother telling her the waitress would be right with her, as Villanelle was stepping out from the kitchen a moment later. There was no one else in the place at the moment, so she could only imagine she was back there taking a break. Eve almost felt bad.

Villanelle was smiling when she walked out, but once her eyes landed on Eve it dimmed a bit.

“Hi again,” Eve said timidly.

“Hello.”

Eve waited, giving Villanelle a moment to come clean. To admit this was all a crock of bullshit, that she was just posing as a waitress while murdering her way up the East Coast and Eve had blown her cover.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, she watched Villanelle tuck her hair behind her ear, revealing the beginnings of a scar at her temple that disappeared into the hair at the side of her head.

Eve smiled at her. “I came to apologize, for this morning. I had a…rough start and took it out on you. I, um…I just moved here and have been a bit stressed, so you can imagine.”

Villanelle blinked rapidly and then was suddenly smiling again. “That is very kind of you, to come and apologize. I understand.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m V, by the way.”

Eve stared at her hand, before taking it gently. “Eve.”

“Eve,” Villanelle whispered, watching their joint hands for a moment before letting go. “It is nice to meet you, Eve.”

Eve almost laughed.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a twitter, plz follow me @villanellesrobe


	6. I Got My Eyes On You

Eve finds herself back at the diner the next morning. And the morning after that. And then the morning after _that_. She usually just sits at the bar, sipping coffee and watching Villanelle flit from booth to booth, greeting the regulars or introducing herself to those rolling through town.

When she has a spare moment, she drops by to fill up Eve’s mug and talk for a few moments before she’s off again.

She assumes that Villanelle thinks she is just being friendly, but what Eve is really doing is evaluating. Evaluating every single detail about the way she moves, about the way she interacts with other people—even the way she laughs, either genuinely or when she’s just trying to please a customer. She’s evaluating every moment to try to find just one hint of the Villanelle that she hunted in Europe, or even the one that declared her love in Rome. And there are some there, for sure.

Her laugh is the same, high pitched and squeaky as if both humored and simply delighted at the same time. Her smirk is the same, especially when she catches Eve’s careful gaze across the diner. Her walk, also the same—her long legs almost awkward as she stalks down the main stretch of the diner.

Her accent and way of speaking are also almost exactly the same, though Eve assumes you don’t lose that when you lose your memory. Villanelle most likely doesn’t remember anything but Russian and English.

When they have their brief moments of conversation, it’s Villanelle that does most of the talking, questioning Eve about where she was from, what she was doing on the East Coast, what her plans were.

(_From London, moved for work, looking for some stability.) _

When Eve does get a question of her own in here and there, Villanelle is—understandably—vague with most of her answers. She summarizes for Eve that she was in an accident that took most of her memory and was working at the diner to help pay for medical bills while she worked with a neurologist at the local hospital to help regain her memories. Eve has to act like a shocked semi-stranger at the news.

She also gleans that Villanelle lives alone, has a cat named Rybka that is a terror and is volunteering on the upcoming presidential campaign for promising Delaware Senator Mitchell Byrne. Eve actually met the senator one morning as he stopped in for coffee and a plate of waffles before a local fundraising event.

That was probably the one part of Villanelle’s “new” life that was most unlike her, besides taking care of a cat. When Eve asked her about the senator, she gave an impromptu and impassioned speech about his progressive policies, promises to tax the rich and provide free healthcare to all. The Villanelle that Eve (thought) she knew would never get into politics, let alone volunteer on a campaign for a politician. She’d more likely be killing them or killing _for_ them.

With each new tidbit of information that she reports back to Kenny, he seems more and more convinced that Eve should just let bygones be bygones and get the hell out of there. And he tells her that, every time they speak.

“Eve, just come home. She’s obviously forgotten you, forgotten everything that made her Villanelle, there’s just no point to all of this,” he told her the night she informed him that she was moving out of the hotel into a cheap apartment on the outskirts of Newark, a college town surrounding the University of Delaware.

Her building is comprised of approximately seventy-five percent students while the rest are idiots like her, desperate for any living situation.

“I’m staying to gather intel, Kenny. What happens if she starts remembering stuff, even small stuff? I can maybe guide her somehow,” Eve theorizes nearly two weeks later, all moved into the apartment, before banging on the wall that she shares with three 21-year-olds guys who live in the apartment next door.

She can hear them shotgunning beers and blasting music and it’s not even 10 a.m. on a Sunday.

“Konstantin said there were people watching, and even he is watching. They have this covered, Eve.”

“Okay, but maybe _they_ aren’t the ones that should be watching,” she argues. “_They_ probably want her dead and won’t hesitate to put a bullet in her brain the moment she remembers something.”

“Don’t you want to kill her?”

“No!” she almost yells. “Why is everyone getting that idea?” she whispers the second part to herself. “I’ve got to go, Kenny.”

“Sure, off to the diner.”

“Mhmm,” she responds, rolling off the mattress that laid haphazardly on the floor, no bed frame to support it. She hadn’t the chance to make a trip to Ikea yet for cheap furniture. “Bye Kenny.”

He lets out one last disappointed sigh. “Bye, Eve.”

She shuffles to the kitchen and starts brewing her own coffee, because despite Kenny’s inference, Villanelle is actually off today so there’s no need to stop in the diner. And she knows she’s off today because Villanelle texted her the night before to tell her after they had exchanged numbers for purely adult and friendly reasons earlier that week.

Instead, Villanelle offered to give her a tour of downtown Newark and the nearby university campus so she could familiarize herself with her new surroundings. Eve is taking it as a chance to ask Villanelle more questions and study her answers, looking for any potential faults, though Villanelle has been pretty faultless so far.

Eve has actually started to push that voice that continued to give reason to Villanelle lying about her memory loss to the back of her mind, where it has almost disappeared in its entirety, because the Villanelle that she knew now was just so convincing. And maybe that was because she was more like the old Villanelle than she was different.

While Eve wasn’t surprised about the aforementioned qualities sticking around following the accident, it was the qualities that had more to do with Villanelle’s personality that were still present that surprised her.

Like when a man had pinched her bottom as she passed by his booth on a late night shift and Villanelle, without a second thought, had turned on her heel and socked him in the mouth. Or when a little girl was celebrating her birthday at the corner booth, and one of the other waitresses had tied a pink balloon to her seat, which Villanelle suavely popped while the little girl had her attention elsewhere, and then smirked silently at Eve who was watching her over her coffee mug.

So although that voice in her head was almost silenced, it was still there, keeping notes.

* * *

Villanelle shows up five minutes late, apologizing profusely, but also dragging along a tired looking Kate, who must have just gotten off her shift from the diner. Things were slightly better between her and Eve since their explosive first meeting, but they were both still a bit standoffish towards each other, and Villanelle was trying to bridge that disconnect between the two.

Villanelle walked between them as they made their way down Main Street, the epicenter of Newark, pointing out the restaurants and shops and even saying hello to a few people she recognized.

At one point, she had to run into the post office to drop off a letter, leaving Kate and Eve standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, awaiting her return.

Eve had her hands in the pockets of her jacket, looking around silently at the students walking past them. Kate was just staring at her, making Eve more uncomfortable by the second.

“Do I have something on my face?” Eve finally asked.

“What?”

“You’re staring. Pretty intensely.”

It was then that Kate let a slight smirk appear on her pale face that was more sinister than mischievous. It made Eve completely unsettled.

“You’re watching her too?” Kate asked, the smirk growing.

Eve was almost shocked by the question. _Almost._

“Who are you?” she bit out.

The smirk on Kate’s face remained. “I know who you are, Eve Polastri. Ex-wife of Niko Polastri, ex-MI6 officer and former obsessive target of Oksansa Astankova, codename Villanelle,” she replied, in a thick Russian accent, which was startlingly different than the slight Southern-American twang she had adopted previously.

“It’s ok, you can watch her,” she said. “But just know that now, we are watching you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @villanellesrobe on twitter, holler @ me


	7. Swedish Meatballs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what, did i not publish a chapter for like two months or sumn?

Ever since the revelation from Kate—or whatever her name _really _is—Eve has been on tenterhooks, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Though Kate never explicitly said who she was watching Villanelle for, the answer was pretty obvious. Unless there was some other foreboding Russian organization that had taken a liking to Villanelle.

So that left Eve thinking: who else in the diner could be an operative of the Twelve?

It’s been a week and Eve has scrutinized every person that Villanelle has talked to in the days since, looking for any indication that they knew who she really was, or were bold enough like Kate to reveal themselves to Eve.

Speaking of Kate, she was currently looming over Eve’s booth in the corner of the diner, silently filling up her coffee mug with a raised eyebrow. Eve stared back, just as intensely. As the coffee approached the rim and almost spilled all over the table, she pulled back and released a tight smile.

“There you go, Eve,” she said, her American accent firmly back in place.

“Thanks so much, _Kate_,” Eve spit, bringing the mug to her lips and watching as Kate disappeared back into the kitchen, but not before gently hip checking Villanelle at the register. Villanelle glanced back at her with a smile, pulling a dish towel she had draped over shoulder and whacking Kate with it.

It was strange how Eve’s observations had shifted from focusing solely on Villanelle to now watching all those that regularly interacted with her.

There was the older man that came in early on Sunday mornings, _The News Journal_ tucked under one arm, and complained to Villanelle about his wife of 52 years while dipping his scrambled eggs in ketchup and cutting up his scrapple into tiny squares.

Then there was his wife, who came in Monday afternoon during her lunch break and collected whatever stories her husband had confided in Villanelle.

There was the large group of construction workers that came in most days of the week for a midday meal. Although they were almost always respectful to Villanelle, sometimes one would step out of line, but Villanelle was quick to bite back.

It was in moments like those that Eve could not let go of the simmering thought at the back of her mind that Villanelle was still there, somewhere. Though she seemed kind, gentle and patient as this so-called V, she still had the crackling attitude and wit of Villanelle.

Finally, there was the senator. Eve actually liked him well enough, and she sat beside him at the counter from time to time. He was boisterous and loud, greeting everyone and anyone who walked in the diner, but was also incredibly friendly and charming. He remembered every detail or anecdote Eve ever told him, and seemed to know Villanelle pretty soundly.

It also became obvious to Eve in the short amount of time that she knew him that the senator had a crush on Villanelle. It was obvious to anyone that stood five feet from the guy when she was around. And it was _annoying._

Whenever Eve felt like she was finally making headway in talking with Villanelle and trying to spur her memories, the diner door would burst open and an excited shout of “V!” would ring out, and Villanelle’s attention was immediately elsewhere, leaving Eve to grumble into her waffles.

“Penny for your thoughts?” came the voice from above, breaking Eve from her reverie. Villanelle slid into the booth across from her, crossing her arms on the table and dropping her head into them. Eve thought she might be catching a quick nap but then the Russian’s head popped up.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Eve thought about it for a moment. She really needed to find a job somewhere because she was running low on cash and needed more if she intended to stay in town for much longer. Which she absolutely was, because she was in too deep to back out now.

“Not sure yet, maybe some job hunting…”

“We should _totally_ go to Ikea so you can finally get a proper bed,” Villanelle suggested, reaching over to rip off a piece of Eve’s toast that now sat cold on the table.

“Doesn’t Mitch have a rally this weekend that you’re working on?”

“Yes, in Philadelphia. I thought we could go to the rally together and then go shopping after,” she said, hopefully. “It would be fun.”

Eve looked over to the counter, aware of the feeling of being watched, and saw Kate staring at them while pretending to listen to a customer. Eve turned back to Villanelle.

“On one condition. No Kate.”

Villanelle rolled her eyes. “You’re _still_ not getting along? Are we not all grownups here?”

“That’s my one condition. Take it or leave it,” Eve offered, snatching her plate back as Villanelle tried to grab for another piece of toast.

“Fine,” Villanelle agreed, before standing back up and tightening her low ponytail. “I will pick you up Saturday morning at 9 sharp.”

* * *

Villanelle shows up on Saturday at 9:30.

When Eve plops herself down in the passenger seat, she has to move a pile of Mitchell Byrne lawn signs to the back of the car.

“You’re really in on this campaign, huh?” Eve asked as she strapped herself in, looking over to Villanelle who was tapping out a text on her phone.

“Mitch was really kind after my accident and helped me out a lot with all the confusing American healthcare stuff,” she shrugged. “It’s at least one way I can pay him back.”

“Can you even vote?”

“Like I said, it’s _one_ way I can pay him back.”

Silence filled the car for a few moments as Villanelle pulled onto the main road. 

Eve picked at some lint on her jacket. “So how much do you actually remember from before the accident?”

Villanelle turned to look at her briefly before her eyes returned to the road. “Like right before? They said I was probably on my phone.”

“No, I mean…anything from the life you were living before.”

Villanelle flipped on her turn signal as she prepared to merge onto I-95.

“Hmm. Only bits and pieces, from when I was young. All Russian memories. Somber. And gray.”

“Like what?”

“Mostly family stuff. My dad was a drunk, I remember that. My mom died when I was small. I think my dad died too, but I cannot remember exactly.”

“That is bleak,” Eve breathed out. It also made total sense, from what she had seen of Villanelle’s file before.

“What was your mother like?”

“She was warm,” Villanelle smiled sadly. “The only warm thing I can remember. She taught me English. I think she wanted me to get out of Russia, and I’m pretty sure that I did.”

“So you have no idea how you came to be driving down the highway in Delaware the day of your accident? Or what you were even doing in the country?”

“No. I had no identification, apparently nothing personal on me, but a lot of cash. A _lot _of cash. And a broken perfume bottle. They found a shard of glass from it that wasn’t completely broken. It had a ‘V’ on it, so that’s what they started calling me at the hospital.”

“But that’s not your real name,” Eve broke in.

“I cannot seem to access any memories where I could recall my name, as the doctors explain it. I do not know why,” she said, quietly. Sadly. “So that is why everyone calls me V. Because there is nothing else to call me.”

She suddenly reached forward and spun the volume dial up, blasting the radio and making Eve jump.

“I do not want to talk about the stupid accident anymore.”

* * *

Eve walked around the outskirts of the rally as Villanelle did her time at the volunteer table, handing out buttons with a smile and helping to register others to vote. It made her giggle, to imagine the Villanelle she used to know seeing the Villanelle she knew now.

Once the rally was over, Villanelle claimed she was famished after her hard work to explain the plate full of Swedish meatballs she sat down with at Ikea.

“I asked for a double portion,” she exclaimed at Eve’s laughter. “I am hungry!”

They spent three full hours in the store, which was mostly spent by Eve telling Villanelle not to climb on various pieces of furniture, and no, she cannot actually use any of the toilets in the show rooms.

Eve bought a proper bed, along with a rug and a few couch pillows for her frumpy loveseat.

Afterwards, they both fell into the car after carrying out the various brown boxes to Villanelle’s car, exhausted. It was quiet, both of them sitting contentedly in the silence as they slowly worked to catch their breath. 

Eve looked over at Villanelle just in time to see her covered in the warmth of the setting sun, her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. Her golden hair was loose and falling over her shoulders, and her cheeks had a slight pink blush from the exertion of the day. And her lips…her lips were…

“What are you looking at?” she asked Eve amusedly, opening one eye.

Eve let her head fall back onto the headrest, sighing. “Just thinking.”

Villanelle reached over and patted her hand, and Eve swore she could feel warmth spreading through her bones at the contact. What was happening to her?

“Thank you for coming with me today. You’re a good friend, Eve.”

Eve chewed her lip before nodding happily at the girl. “Of course.”

Villanelle leaned forward slightly, both eyes now open and staring right at Eve, who had to force herself not to back away out of instinct. 

Villanelle moved closer, reaching out a hand. 

“Can I just…”

Eve sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.

“…get that for you.”

She opened them to find Villanelle plucking a feather from her curls. She rolled down the window and blew it lightly into the breeze.

“You had a feather in your hair, silly,” Villanelle said, laughing at her. Eve returned the laughter weakly and buckled her seatbelt as Villanelle started the car.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @villanellesrobe on tweeter; come visit for updates and pics of my dog


	8. Isn't It Romantic?

After almost two months of living in Delaware and almost depleting her savings on diner pancakes and tax-free shopping at the Christiana mall, Eve finally landed a job as a receptionist for a doctor’s office not far from her apartment.

“I don’t understand why you, an MI6 agent, are masquerading as a receptionist,” Kenny complained during one of their early morning phone calls.

“First of all, _former_ MI6 agent,” Eve said, balancing her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she leaned forward to zip up her boots. “And second—I need to keep laying low. While we work to trace Kate, I’m still working to sniff out any other potential Twelve operatives surrounding her.”

“See, I feel like that’s just an excuse to stay there longer. You’ve got a flat there, you’ve got a job there…what are you really up to Eve?” he questioned.

She rolled her eyes as she stood in front of her full-length mirror, sliding a hand down her navy blue cardigan and black dress pants. Her hair was loose and half clipped back.

“Gathering intel, Kenny. For once I can get close to her without the threat of imminent danger. Just…give me a little bit longer, please.”

He sighed. “Ok, but I-”

Eve’s phone vibrated with an incoming call, and she pulled it away from her ear to see Villanelle’s name on the screen.

“Sorry Kenny, let’s finish this later. Gotta go. Bye!”

“Really? What’s-”

She hung up and transferred over to Villanelle’s line.

“Hey V, what’s up?” she asked casually.

“Eveeeee,” Villanelle drawled, sounding bored. “I get off at six tonight, want to come over?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?”

“The only customer here is Jessica and her ugly baby,” Villanelle whispered.

Eve almost guffawed before collecting herself, reminded once again that _her_ Villanelle was obviously still in there somewhere. “Her baby is not ugly.”

“He looks like a frog.”

“All newborns do,” Eve explained, locking her apartment door behind her as she left for the day.

“I was cute.”

“You can’t possibly remember that, even _without _amnesia.”

“Call it intuition, then.”

“I think they call it delusion, actually,” Eve bounced back. She flipped up her wrist to check the time on her watch, sighing. “I’ve got to run, the bus should be here soon.”

“You didn’t answer me. Do you want to come over tonight? I can cook, we can watch a movie…”

“Ok, ok. I’ll come over tonight.”

“Yes!” Eve had to pull the phone away from her ear at the exclamation. “I will pick you up from work.”

“That’d be great, thanks V,” Eve said, smiling to herself.

“See you soon, partner,” Villanelle said, before disconnecting.

Eve stared at her phone screen for a few moments, a million thoughts seeming to pass through her mind at once, before she threw it in her bag.

* * *

The drive to Villanelle’s place was spent mostly listening to her complain about her customers for the day, who seemed to be tipping less and less.

“I make $7.50 an hour, you can’t tip me _at least_ 18%? Really?” She pulled into her neighborhood and waved at one of her neighbors as they passed. “Am I not nice enough?”

“You’re nice enough, V,” Eve reassured her.

“Is it the scar? Do you think it scares people?”

Eve laughed. “You’re not that menacing.” _Now_, she added in her head.

“Well, I will try harder and be even nicer. See how they like that,” she pouted, stepping out of her car and walking up the path to the house ahead of Eve.

Once inside, Rybka greets them by winding through their legs and purring happily. So much for the terror that Villanelle described her as once before.

“So Eve, what will it be for dinner? I can make almost anything. Fajitas? Fried rice? Baked chicken?”

“I trust you to pick,” Eve relented, falling onto the couch and scratching behind Rybka’s ears contentedly.

“Spaghetti it is,” she hears from the kitchen, followed by the clanging of various pots and pans.

A few minutes later, Villanelle leans over the back of the couch and offers her a glass of red wine, which Eve takes happily.

“How was your work today?”

“Mmm,” Eve thought for a moment, taking a sip. “Average.”

“Just average?”

“I’m a receptionist.”

“So? That can be fun.”

“In what possible way?”

Villanelle rested her chin on her hand, as if in deep thought. “Yeah, you are right, I have got nothing.”

She then launched off the couch as the sound of boiling water drifted into the living room.

Nearly an hour later, Eve was helping Villanelle wash the dishes, trying not to think about her old job in London. Her old _jobs_, as a matter of fact.

“Since I picked dinner, do you want to pick the movie?”

“Sure. Something scary?”

Villanelle scrunched up her face, shaking her head.

“Ok, romantic comedy?”

Villanelle only scrunched her face a bit this time, before nodding.

“How about Bridget Jones’s Diary? It’s been a while since I’ve seen that.”

“I have never seen it,” Villanelle admitted.

“Well, now’s a perfect time to introduce you.”

They both sat cross legged on the couch, their knees lightly touching and a bowl of popcorn between them, Rybka sleeping on the back of the couch.

Eve probably watched more of Villanelle than she did of the actual movie, raptured by her reactions to certain scenes, her laugh, her anger and frustration at certain parts.

By the time Bridget was chasing after Mark Darcy in only her underwear and a robe, Villanelle had sunk into the couch next to her, her head resting on Eve's shoulder and a blanket pulled up to her chin.

“That is very romantic,” she commented. She looked up at Eve. “Don’t you think.”

Eve looked down at Villanelle, taking her in quietly—from her flushed cheeks to the slightly glazed over look in her eyes from a long day's work. “Uh huh.”

Villanelle laughed, bringing her hand up and _booping_ Eve quickly on the nose. Before she could totally pull away though, Eve snatched her hand.

Villanelle froze, looking back up at Eve in concern, which shifted to something else entirely when she drank in the look on Eve’s face. Smirking, she sat up and scooted closer to Eve, who she could have sworn had stopped breathing.

As the credits rolled on the TV, Villanelle closed the space between them, bringing her face only a breath away from Eve’s.

“Tell me not to and I won’t,” she whispered.

Eve felt goosebumps break out on her body at the words, but was otherwise silent.

Villanelle dove in a half second later, covering her lips with her own and releasing what sounded to Eve like a relieved sigh. Eve only felt soft lips against hers, and then Villanelle’s hand gently cupping her jaw as she seemed to somehow kiss her harder.

After what seemed like forever, but was probably more like five minutes, Eve fell back against the couch’s armrest, Villanelle following and lying alongside her, a hand now on Eve's hip and the other tangled in her hair. She could feel her mumbling something against her lips followed by a breathy, “I want you to come.”

Eve pulled away quickly, breathing heavily. “What?”

Villanelle pushed a hand through her own hair, collecting herself for a moment. “Mitch’s big campaign event tomorrow night. I want you to come with me. As my date.”

Eve closed her eyes for a moment. “Of course.”

Villanelle beamed, pleased.

And then got back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @villanellesrobe on twitter, holla @ me


	9. Blueberry Pancakes

When Eve wakes up, her mouth is completely dry and her nose is buried in something soft and itchy, though with a lovely floral scent. _Hair, _she realized, _my face is buried in hair. _

She lifted her head and realized she was still on Villanelle’s couch, where they both must have fallen asleep after kissing heavily for the better part of the evening. She looked down to find Villanelle snug between Eve and couch, dead to the world with a spot of drool on her cheek.

Eve looked at her fondly for a moment before licking the pad of her thumb and softly rubbing the spot away. That seemed to rouse the sleeping girl, who stared up at her grumpily through bleary eyes.

A grin appeared on her face when she realized who was staring down at her.

“Good morning Eve,” she sighed happily, burying her face back into Eve’s neck.

Eve laughed. “What has you so happy at 8 o’clock in the morning?”

“I have wanted to kiss you…for a while,” she admitted.

“Really?” Eve replied, almost breathless as Villanelle placed soft kisses just below her ear.

“Really. Since you yelled at me like a crazy woman outside of the diner.”

Eve rolled her eyes and then rolled off the couch, leaving Villanelle to face plant into the cushions.

“Hey!”

“Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

Villanelle’s head popped up, hair a mess and fly-aways sticking to her forehead. She grumbled a quick “in the bathroom cabinet” before dropping back down as Eve walked to the bathroom.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, trying not to look to closely at the marks on her neck, before opening it and grabbing a toothbrush from the pack. Closing the cabinet door, she almost screamed when she looked back into the mirror to see Villanelle behind her, smiling.

“Holy _shit_!”

“I got you,” Villanelle laughed.

“Good one,” Eve deadpanned, squeezing toothpaste onto the brush and shoving it into her mouth.

Villanelle watched her brush and then lean over the sink and spit once she was done.

“That is _so_ sexy.”

“Get out!” Eve yelled, pushing Villanelle out the door, her mouth still full of toothpaste.

* * *

She spent another fifteen minutes or so washing her face and trying to brush the tangles out of her hair before walking into the kitchen to find Villanelle already making breakfast, a robe tied around her waist and Rybka mewling at her feet.

She flipped a pancake as Eve sat down at the table, taking a mug of freshly-made coffee between her hands. “Thank you.”

Villanelle looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Of course.”

She brought over a plate piled high with fluffy blueberry pancakes that could have been out of a magazine.

“Christ those look good,” Eve said, spearing two with her fork and dragging them onto her plate.

“I know, I am a fantastic cook,” Villanelle boasted, slathering her own pancakes with syrup and butter.

As she turned for a moment, Eve got a better look at the scar on the side of her head and reached out her hand, tracing her fingers along it gently. Villanelle turned into her touch.

“Does it hurt?”

“Mm. No. Not anymore.” She shoved a bite of pancake into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “So last night was…it was ok for you?”

“It was. And it was ok for you?”

“Very much so.”

“And this event tonight?”

Villanelle perked up. “Yes. It’s at the Hotel DuPont. In Wilmington. Very fancy.”

“I suppose I need to find a nice dress then,” Eve said, already pulling out her phone to search for the nearest boutique. A hand fell to her wrist, pushing her phone down.

“I’ve already got that taken care of,” Villanelle smirked.

* * *

“Okay, how exactly do you afford this on a diner waitress’ salary?” Eve asked, standing before Villanelle’s bedroom closet full of her typical day and work clothes as well as a few designer pieces sprinkled in the mix.

Villanelle shrugged before reaching past a Givenchy sweater to grab a red dress from the back. “I am frugal.”

“Sure.”

She held up the dress to Eve. It was almost blood red, flowy towards the bottom, but with tight straps across the neck and chest at the top.

“Try it on.”

Eve backed away slightly. “I shouldn’t…”

“Eve. Trust me.”

Eve stared at her for a moment, before carefully taking the dress. Villanelle clapped her hands excitedly.

When she came back into the bedroom, she smoothed her hands over the material nervously, fussing with the strap around her neck and the two hugging her breasts. Villanelle walked up to her silently, taking both of her hands and moving them away and back down to her sides before looking over what felt like every inch of her.

“You are so beautiful.”

Eve blushed and looked down, but felt a finger at her chin, lifting it up.

“And _so _sexy.”

Eve closed her eyes and felt a hand at her neck, squeezing slightly, before moving up to cup her jaw. Villanelle bent slightly to kiss her and Eve met her hungrily, wrapping her arms around Villanelle and digging her fingers into the downy blonde hair at the nape of her neck.

Villanelle groaned, pressing forward as the backs of Eve’s knees hit the bed and she sat, Villanelle dropping to her knees before her.

Eve watched as she ran a hand along the fabric of the dress towards the bottom before slowly reaching up to grab the back of Eve’s neck and guiding her down to her level into a kiss, and then separating and pushing slightly at Eve’s shoulders until she was leaning back on her elbows.

Eve had not been this turned on in what felt like forever, and as Villanelle looked up at her from her kneeling position through hooded eyes, she almost came on the spot. Villanelle fisted the fabric at Eve’s legs, pushing it up to her hips in one swift motion to reveal that Eve was already ready for her.

Eve tipped her back with a moan as she felt Villanelle press the slightest hint of a kiss at the top of her underwear before pulling it down her thighs and off completely within seconds, flinging it somewhere behind her.

Eve let out a laugh that quickly turned into a gasp as Villanelle blew softly at the apex of her thighs, eyeing her longingly.

“I’ve…um. I’ve…” Eve found herself breathless. “I’ve never done this before…with a…with a woman.”

The corner of Villanelle’s mouth quirked. “Just relax. I know what I’m doing.”

And then her mouth was on her, tongue hurriedly working in circles, and Eve was arching off the bed. She felt like she was going to float through the ceiling until her tongue dipped lower, inside, and Eve knew she was going to crash through it.

Her tongue was soon replaced by fingers, first two and then a third, pumping gently as Eve arched into her touch, sweat now collecting in the hollow space between her collar bones as she grabbed the sheets at her sides.

She felt something inside her pulling taut as Villanelle’s mouth returned, sucking gently as her fingers continued to work below.

It only took a look, one glance down to see Villanelle’s dark eyes staring back up at her for Eve to finally let go, the feeling inside her once pulled taut now snapping as her orgasm washed over her.

As the feeling ebbed and flowed and Eve returned to earth, Villanelle peppered the inside of her thighs with kisses, continuing up her stomach, her chest, and finally climbing onto the bed to eventually reach her mouth, sighing into her.

“Wow,” Eve breathed, a hand on her chest.

"I know."

Villanelle rested on an elbow, hovering above her and smiling as if she was quite proud of herself. She looked past Eve’s head to the clock on her bedside table, groaning.

“I have to get ready for work. I’m covering Kate’s lunch shift.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me already?”

Villanelle leant down and blew a raspberry on Eve’s neck, making her giggle. “I’d rather stay here and have lunch with you. Or have you for lunch.”

Eve readjusted the dress slightly as she sat up. “Ok Romeo.”

She changed back into her own clothes and let Villanelle get ready for work, washing the dirty dishes and pans in the kitchen as she did so. Villanelle drove her home before heading to the diner.

“I will pick you up at six tonight, ok? You will be ready?”

Eve grabbed the dress from where it was hanging in the back seat. “Can’t wait.”

She waved as Villanelle pulled away and merged back into traffic. She turned to enter her apartment building but something made her look back to her left, to the parking lot beside her building.

Where Kate sat alone in her car, staring directly at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we all know the dress


	10. The First Cut Is The Deepest

Eve debated just walking into her building like she never saw Kate in the first place, but figured she’d at least see why the woman had suddenly decided to stalk her in broad daylight. She hooked the dress over her shoulder, walking towards Kate’s car as the woman slowly stepped out to lean against the hood.

She sighed as she stopped in front of Kate, who had her arms akimbo and a grim look on her face.

“Did you need something?”

Kate chuckled darkly. “Did you fuck her?”

Eve’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the harsh comment. “Excuse me?”

“Did you _fuck _her?”

“Are you following me everywhere now? What, did you camp outside of her house last night?” Eve almost laughed.

“You are only making this more difficult for yourself.”

“In what way?”

Kate scoffed, looking angrily off to the side where a group of skateboarders were grinding the railing on the set of stairs towards the back of Eve’s apartment building.

“Oh my god,” Eve breathed, a sudden realization hitting her. 

“What?” Kate spit, rising up off the hood of the car to stand directly in front of Eve.

“You’re jealous. You _like _her,” she responded, throwing her hands in the air. “How does she manage to do this to everyone,” she then whispered, mostly to herself.

“I do not _like _her. She is a job. My job. That you are interfering with,” Kate snarled.

“Your job, I’m sure, was to simply watch her, not befriend her,” Eve argued.

“That’s because I do my job very well,” Kate bounced back, her accent growing thicker as her annoyance increased.

“I’m sure,” Eve replied levelly.

Without another word, she turned to walk back to her apartment, finished with the conversation. By the time she got to the front door of the building and put her key into the lock, she checked the parking lot one more time to see that Kate was already gone.

* * *

“Can you give me any insight into Byrne’s politics?” Eve asked Kenny as she put the finishing touches on her makeup. Her phone was on speaker and balanced on the edge of her bathroom sink. “I don’t want to get cornered by any of his staffers without anything to talk about.”

Kenny yawned, though she could hear the tapping of his keyboard in the background. “Doesn’t Villanelle tell you about this stuff? Isn’t she supposed to be working on his campaign?”

“She’s actually been pretty tight-lipped when it comes to talking about his platform.”

“Well, he’s a Democrat. Pretty decently left. Votes that way too, though he tends to be more moderate with fiscal issues.”

“Social issues?”

“Pro-choice. Pro LGBT+. In favor of universal healthcare and majorly anti-gun,” Kenny said. “He’s actually pissed off a fair amount of people with that last one.”

Eve capped her lipstick and threw it back into her makeup bag, zipping it shut, before switching her phone off speaker and bringing it to her ear.

“Thank you, Kenny. Seriously.” She checked her wristwatch for the time. “Alright, V should be here any second.

Kenny laughed at her for a moment, before sobering. “V?”

“What?”

“You just called her ‘V.’”

Eve sighed, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder and she worked to slip on a light jacket. “_Villanelle. _Sorry.”

“I don’t think I will ever tire of saying this Eve, but…please be careful.”

“Yes, yes Kenny, I will. I promise,” she replied. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She hung up and soon after her phone buzzed with a text from Villanelle, proclaiming a simple ‘Here.’

When she slid into the front seat of Villanelle's car, she immediately noticed that Villanelle seemed to be in a considerably good mood. She was blasting some pop song and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, nodding along.

Eve smiled as she swooped the bottom of her dress into the car along with her before shutting the door. She took in Villanelle's outfit--a dark blue fitted suit, and her hair down over her shoulders in waves. She was stunning.

“You look stunning,” Eve said out loud.

Villanelle turned to beam at her, reaching a hand out to twist the volume dial down a notch. She then learned over the armrest to press a feather light kiss to Eve’s lips before sitting back and shifting the gear into drive.

“I think I already expressed my thoughts about you in that dress.”

* * *

By the time they pulled up to the valet, Eve could see the event was already busy with people lined up outside the front doors of the hotel. Villanelle must have been on a list of some kind because they were let in immediately after she spoke briefly with a security guard.

She dropped her jacket at the coat check before following Villanelle into the large dining hall, which was lined by round tables on either side that led to a small dance floor and a DJ playing top forty hits at a medium volume as guests networked.

She noticed most people were wearing large ‘Vote for Mitch’ and ‘Byrne 2020’ buttons and soon found herself among the crowd as Villanelle worked to affix one to the top strap of her dress.

“Okay, _ouch_,” she exclaimed as Villanelle accidentally poked her with the pointy end of the pin.

“Oh relax, you big baby,” Villanelle teased as she finished, attaching one to her own blazer as well. “Now we match.”

“We sure do.”

She followed closely behind Villanelle as the woman mingled with several people at the event, mostly other campaign workers and volunteers. She happily introduced Eve each time as her ‘friend from work,’ though she said it rather suggestively with an obnoxious wink to Eve each time.

Most of the night went on the same and Villanelle made sure to top up Eve’s glass of white wine each time it got even close to half empty.

She saw Mitch out of the corner of her eye working the room and he was constantly surrounded by a large group of people that seemed to hang on his every word. He gave a speech towards the end of the night as everyone was eating dinner at their respective tables; it was impassioned and he expressed his gratitude for the support of those in the room.

Villanelle clapped loudly as he returned to his seat and another member of the campaign got up to give a short speech. Afterwards, as the wait staff cleared their plates, the DJ put on a slow song as the event was wrapping up and a few couples walked out to the dance floor.

She turned back to Villanelle to ask if she was almost ready to leave to find her standing with her hand outstretched towards Eve.

“Care to dance?”

Eve blushed lightly before nodding and grabbing the cloth napkin from her lap and placing it on the table. Villanelle took her hand and led her to the dance floor where the other couples swayed.

Eve wrapped her arms around Villanelle’s neck as she did the same around Eve’s waist and they slowly rocked side to side. Eve attempted to move closer, to bring their bodies together, but she heard Villanelle make a disapproving noise.

“Now, now Eve,” she admonished softly. “Leave room for the holy spirit.”

Eve rolled her eyes as she pressed on, bringing their bodies together while she lowered her head to rest on Villanelle’s chest. She felt a kiss to the crown of her head as the song continued to play.

* * *

Eve slipped a dollar into the tip jar as the woman working the coat check handed over her jacket. She then leaned against the wall closest to the hotel exit as she waited for Villanelle, who was having an end-of-the-night toast with Mitch and the rest of the volunteers and campaign staff in a room down the hall.

She smiled politely as some of the people she met that night filtered out, a few stumbling and polishing off their glasses of wine.

Soon she saw a group of the staffers come bounding down the hall in glee, their buttons still hanging off their dresses and dress shirts as they left the hotel to probably hole up at a nearby bar for the remainder of the night.

After another nearly fifteen minutes with no sight of Villanelle, she shot a text to the girl to make sure she was alright, and after getting no response she ventured off to find her. She went down the hallway that she saw the group come from, and as she turned the corner she almost bumped into Heath, another campaign volunteer as well as a diner regular.

“Oh, hey Eve!” he greeted her. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m actually here with V,” she told him, looking over his shoulder to see if she caught sight of her anywhere.

"Oh, I was just with her and the gang in Room 144, but had to duck out to settle the DJ's bill," he told her. "Mitch was practically forcing us to finish the bottles of Dom Perignon."

“Do you know if she's still in there?”

“I think most of them left, sorry Eve,” he said. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll catch you at the diner sometime, ok?”

“Ok, thanks Heath.”

He left her with a light pat on the shoulder.

She debated just trying to call Villanelle but decided to continue down the hallway to find Room 144. It was the corner room at the very end of the hallway, and Eve bit her lip worriedly when it appeared to be completely silent inside.

She checked her phone one last time for a response from Villanelle before slipping it back into her jacket pocket and lightly trying the door handle. She was surprised to find it unlocked and pushed it open with her shoulder.

The first thing she noticed was a dozen empty champagne glasses on a table closest to the door, joined by four empty bottles of the Dom Pérignon that Heath had mentioned. The room was a large suite that was split up as a living room and a bedroom that was behind a closed door next to the TV.

The room seemed to be empty and Eve sighed disappointedly as she turned to leave—but not before a short, excited moan made its way from the bedroom. A very _familiar_ moan.

Eve only saw red as she marched towards the bedroom door and practically slammed it open.

How stupid had she been? Did she blatantly ignore all the times Mitch flirted openly with Villanelle in the diner? Or all of the times he came in and specifically requested Villanelle as his waitress, proceeding to tip her upwards of 30%?

Christ, there she was accusing Kate of being jealous when she was prepared to start World War III in a boogie hotel room.

The door ricocheted off the wall as Eve stood in its wake, frozen on the spot.

Villanelle’s back was to her but her head shot up at the noise and she turned to Eve, her eyes gleaming and full of something close to pleasure. She was standing in between Mitch’s spread legs as he sat before her on the bed, his head all the way forward and pressed into her stomach, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

And while Eve may have stormed in seeing red, Villanelle was covered in it.

Blood.

Pouring from Mitch Byrne as Villanelle pushed him off of her and back onto the bed, yanking out the pointed end of a campaign button's pin from where it was lodged in his neck.


	11. Murder, She Wrote

It was nearing two o’clock in the morning and Eve was on her fourth…no, _fifth _beer of the night—and that was on top of the three glasses of wine from the event.

She wasn’t sitting at a bar either, since the only words that escaped her mouth when she dropped into the back of an Uber shaking and crying was that of the address of her apartment building.

Instead, she was sat in the far dark corner of her apartment complex’s parking lot, gulping down Yuenglings and tossing the empty bottles behind her, reveling momentarily in the shattering chaos.

Just beyond the lot, college kids were stumbling along the sidewalks and finding their ways home after the bars had closed promptly at one o’clock. One couple had made their way towards her corner most likely looking for an ideal hookup spot, but once they saw Eve they turn and ran.

She understood. She must look quite a sight: heels deserted in the grass next to her, mascara most likely running down her cheeks. She hadn’t said a word since she stormed out of the event, except for her address to the Uber driver and a solitary grunt of approval when the guy at the liquor store asked “That it?” when she put the six pack on the counter.

She had never felt so stupid in her entire life. Even after her first chase of Villanelle that ended in a stabbing, or even the second which left her with a gunshot wound. At least in both of those moments, she _had _her. She had Villanelle in her sights, had her caught.

But this time, Eve fell for it. Disregarding all of her initial instincts, she let herself fall victim to Villanelle’s tricks. She hadn’t even mustered the courage to text or call Kenny yet, far too embarrassed to admit he was right all along.

She tilted her head back, taking one last mouthful of beer before she finished the bottle.

“Are you finished feeling sorry for yourself?”

The voice came from the shadows but she obviously knew who it was. She heard the sound of her boots before she saw her, and when she finally stepped into the yellow light of the street lamp, she was still dressed in the blue fitted suit, hands deep in the pockets of her trousers.

Once she was stopped about ten six steps from where Eve sat, Eve pulled the bottle from her lips and hurled it towards Villanelle. The glass exploded at the woman’s feet, but she didn’t move an inch, except for the light quirk of her lips.

This was no longer _V_. This was Villanelle, in all her glory. And _fuck_ if Eve didn’t kind of miss her.

The blood had since been cleaned off of her and Eve almost wanted to believe that everything she saw was a lie—that maybe she had too much wine and imagined the whole thing. That maybe Mitch was still alive.

“I cannot _believe _you,” she whispered between them.

Villanelle tilted her head and looked at Eve with what seemed like pity and chuckled. “Didn’t you, though?”

Eve reached behind her in a blind rage and picked up the neck of a broken bottle, charging at Villanelle with the sharp edge of the glass. She let her come at her too, for a moment, before she grabbed Eve’s arm and twisted it behind her, shoving her into the parked Honda Civic next to them.

Villanelle squeezed at her wrist until she yelped and dropped the glass, hearing it shatter completely as it hit the ground.

“Don’t do that Eve,” she felt hot breath on her ear, Villanelle still pressed behind her. Hours ago, earlier that morning, it would have been a lot sexier, however, the deep pull of arousal still settled within Eve.

Villanelle let go of her and stepped back, but Eve remained draped against the car, burying her head into her arms. The alcohol was beginning to hit her and she swayed slightly.

Soft hands were suddenly on her again, this time at her hips to steady her. “Come on, Eve. You should go to bed.”

“You should go to hell,” she replied hotly, slurring her words slightly as she watched Villanelle bend down to pick up her discarded heels and purse. Once she stood up again she gave Eve an unimpressed look.

“You are wasted. Go to bed and then I will be on my way.”

Eve snatched her things out of Villanelle’s arms and marched over to her building, digging clumsily through her purse for her keys on the way.

“Fuck off.”

But Villanelle trailed quietly behind her, all the way up to her apartment, where she entered and watched Eve fall into bed, still in her dress.

Eve was halfway to dead to the world but was still awake enough to watch through drooping eyelids as Villanelle placed a glass of water on her nightstand along with two Tylenol and then slipped back out into the darkness.

* * *

She was awakened the next morning by the incessant ringing of her cell phone and a steady stream of sunlight bursting in through her window.

She groaned and stretched before grabbing her phone from the nightstand and bringing it to her ear. “What?”

“Eve? It’s Kenny. I haven’t heard from you since last night. I never got an update. Are you ok?”

She sleepily rolled over on her side and caught sight of the glass of water, the events of last night coming back to her and slamming into her at full force.

“Fuck—Kenny, I’ve gotta go.”

“What? Eve-”

She hung up and tossed the phone onto her bed as she almost ripped off the dress, which now felt somehow tainted, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. She ordered an Uber before brushing her teeth and combing her hair into a bun at the base of her neck.

By the time her driver pulled into the parking lot of the diner, she could see that the usual breakfast crowd was mostly there. She asked the driver to give her five minutes.

The TVs in the diner were all tuned to the same channel covering the murder of Mitchell Byrne as Eve approached one of the waitresses.

“Jane, have you seen V today?”

Jane tucked her pencil behind her ear and put a hand on her hip. “No, missed her morning shift. So did Kate as a matter of fact.”

Eve tried to look disappointed, though that was the answer she was expecting.

She quickly thanked Jane before heading back out to the car and giving the driver Villanelle’s address and handing him $20 cash.

Villanelle’s car was still in the driveway when they pulled up and Eve pounded the front door with her fist.

"Open this fucking door, Villanelle."

No answer.

She tried the handle and, like last night, found it unlocked. When she pushed open the door the house looked relatively normal. Nothing major was missing, except for Villanelle herself.

She snooped around the house for a few minutes before taking a seat on Villanelle’s sofa, leaning her head back, closing her eyes and sighing.

She almost screamed when she felt a weight land in her lap but calmed down when she opened her eyes to find Rybka staring up at her, purring. Eve smiled sadly at her as she reached to scratch her head, but her eyes were immediately trained on a small piece of paper pinned neatly to Rybka’s collar.

She unpinned it delicately as Rybka bounded off her lap and unfurled it, heat simmering in the pit of her stomach at the words.

_SORRY BABY x._


	12. With So Little To Be Sure Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience as i crank out these chapters. i hope everyone is still enjoying it!

Eve counts the clouds below as the plane drifts somewhere over the Atlantic. The ice cubes in her seatmate’s ginger ale clink and fizz as the jet encounters minor turbulence that lifts her out of her temporary daydream.

She closes the shade on her window and tugs down the provided sleep mask but still cannot find any semblance of peace with the thoughts running rampant in her head. Thoughts of what she will need to do when she lands, thoughts of where Villanelle could have gone, thoughts of Kenny’s grim disappointment when she told him what happened, thoughts of Rybka probably losing her shit down in the cargo hold…

_Thoughts of dancing with Villanelle, thoughts of her laugh, her head between her—_

She rips the sleep mask off and sighs heavily, ignoring the curious glance of her seatmate. When the stewardess makes her rounds again, she orders a gin and tonic—scratch that, _two_ gin and tonics—and settles into the fact that she won’t be resting for the remaining five hours of the flight.

Once she left Villanelle’s house with Rybka tucked into her purse, she made quick work of packing any valuable belongings she had in her apartment and calling her landlord to terminate the month-to-month lease agreement, doling out the necessary funds for whatever she owed.

Her next stop was the diner, where she checked just one last time for any sign that Villanelle had left a clue as to where she was headed, or if Kate had shown her face yet. But there was no luck on either, and she was already nervous about hanging around after the murder. The authorities would soon realize she was there the night of the event, in company with the last known person to have seen Mitch Byrne alive—someone who would most assuredly be their top suspect.

“Something on your mind, dear?”

Eve turned to her seatmate, an elderly woman who had put down her magazine and was now looking at her with concern. Eve realized she may have been letting some of her thoughts escape out loud.

“Uh, yes. Sorry.”

“It’s just, you’ve been mumbling something about a V and diners and a Rybka…you seem quite stressed, dear,” the woman said, now tucking the magazine into the seatback pouch and angling her body towards her. “Talking to a stranger could help?”

Eve’s eyebrows rose at the suggestion. Did she seem that crazed?

“No, I appreciate it, but—”

The woman patted Eve’s hand, cutting her off. “Now, now. Who is V?”

Eve sighed once more, picked up her gin and tonic and downed it in one go.

She launched into the story as well she could without mentioning anything to do with assassins, murder or spies, and her seatmate—Dolores, she learned—sat with rapt attention, never once interrupting her, even when Eve signaled the stewardess for one more cocktail somewhere between Paris _(“I betrayed her when she was most vulnerable”_) and Rome (“_and then she did the same to me_”).

“And now she’s gone, again, and I’m left picking up the pieces and following her like a sad dog,” Eve said, exasperated and nibbling on the ice left in her glass. “I’ve even got her stupid cat.”

Dolores nodded sadly, but gave Eve a knowing smile.

“Love, dear.”

Eve looked at her questioningly.

“You’re in love,” Dolores explained. “You two have quite a story, and I can only assume it’s far from over.”

“I do _not_ love her. She ruined my life,” Eve defended. “Not to mention she’s a manipulative liar that made me believe she was a completely different person!”

“But how different _was_ she?”

“What?”

“You claimed that you saw a lot of similarities between the old V and the person she was pretending to be…but were they really differences? Or were they _true_ parts of her she was allowing you to see?”

Eve sat back in her seat, mouth slightly open as she thought over the words. “Who _are _you?”

Dolores laughed before reaching for her magazine. “I was a couples therapist for thirty years, dear.”

Eve rolled her eyes and groaned.

Dolores turned to her one last time before opening her magazine.

“I think you’re very adamant that this 'V' ruined your life, that you haven’t had the chance to stop and realize she’s simply become your life.”

* * *

When the plane touched down in London, Eve thanked Dolores for her help and headed to find the airline employee that was meant to assist her with Rybka. The cat carrier was eventually passed off to her after signing several forms, and she found Rybka contentedly purring inside, seemingly unbothered.

_That makes one of us_, Eve thought. 

She hustled down to the baggage claim to collect her suitcase and pulled up the Uber app on her phone once she was outside at the curb. She thought it may be best to go to Kenny's first to get a handle on the situation and find out if he had any intel on where Villanelle may have gone. 

She had just inputted her location when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Eve.”

Konstantin.

She turned slowly, anger settling into her features.

“_Fuck_ you,” she spit, picking up the carrier and dragging her suitcase away from the man.

She heard his heavy footsteps follow closely behind her.

“Eve, listen to me.”

“You’re a liar,” she shouted over her shoulder, aware of the strange looks from passersby. “You lied to me. To my face!”

“Eve—”

She turned on a dime, stopping him in his tracks.

“’Be careful, Eve,’” she mocked, and then shoved at his shoulder. “You _knew._”

“You need to come with me, Eve. I will explain…what I can.”

A black sedan pulled up next to them, and the driver’s side window rolled down slowly to reveal Irina behind the wheel, smiling sheepishly. “Hi.”

“Please,” Konstantin said, holding the back door open.

Eve closed her eyes tightly for a moment, before releasing and shaking her head in frustration.

“Fine,” she practically growled, leaving her suitcase to Konstantin as she climbed into the backseat with Rybka.

Irina drummed her fingers nervously on the steering wheel as Konstantin popped open the trunk, humming along to the song on the radio.

Eve smoothed a hand over her face at the words.

_“I think I love you so what am I so afraid of  
I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for_

_I think I love you isn't that what life is made of  
Though it worries me to say that I never felt this way…”_

“Fuck you, Dolores.”


	13. One Way Or Another, I'm Gonna Find Ya

The clouds of cream in Eve’s coffee cup swirl and mix together as she moves her spoon in tight, angry circles, refusing to look up at the faces of her two companions sitting before her in a small London café.

The metal of the spoon clinks harshly against the side of the cup in a way that Eve knows has others in the café probably staring at her in worry. Still, she stirs until the hot liquid is sloshing up over the sides, burning her fingers.

A hand grabs her wrist.

“Stop,” Konstantin pleads. The spoon clatters noisily on the tabletop as Eve releases and sits back in her chair, finally acknowledging them.

Irina has her face buried in a chocolate croissant as she scrolls through something on her phone, while Konstantin looks at Eve with both worry and stress etched across his face.

“So how much does she—” Eve gestures to the red-headed teen, “—know about all of this?”

“Evghfhythng,” Irina replies through a mouthful of croissant, not looking up from her phone.

“Everything,” Konstantin clarifies, passing her a napkin with a disapproving look.

She wipes the chocolate from the corners of her mouth. “Everything,” she smiles sweetly, putting her phone away. “Sorry.”

“I want to know the truth. I want to know why you let me waste all this time when you knew she remembered.”

“I did try to warn you.”

“You could have warned me by telling me the truth!”

Konstantin laughed wearily. “You are right. Of course. But I was being truthful when I said my daughter was _being naughty_,” he admitted, turning to glare at the younger girl.

Irina shrunk in her seat slightly.

“I can tell you this,” he started. “She was really sent there for a big job and she did get in a car crash—big mess, slight head injury. But yes, she was ok. But this job was high profile enough for her to _get out._”

Eve followed along suspiciously. “Get out?”

“You know…get away, from them. One final job and she could be done, she just had to—“ he lowered his voice to a whisper, moving his hand across his neck in a slicing motion “—take out a major presidential candidate.”

Eve narrowed her eyes. “So where do I come in?”

“She was protecting you,” Irina piped up.

“Shush, золотце,” he admonished. “The Twelve were willing to go along with the story of her losing her memory because it allowed her to get closer to Byrne. But what they--and even Villanelle--were not expecting was for you to suddenly show up.”

He looked at Irina, who glanced back guiltily.

“The Twelve had their own operatives keeping her in their sights, working at the diner, on the campaign—I’m sure you may have met some of them,” he explained.

“Kate.”

“Who?”

“Um, waitress at the diner, always up Villanelle’s ass?”

“Ah, yes. Nina Lebedev.”

He took a sip of his own coffee.

“So I convinced them that you showed up on your own volition, that you bought her story of forgetting. That you would be no problem. And Villanelle agreed not to divulge anything to you until…after Byrne,” he said. “Though I do not think she expected you to find out the way you did.”

“No shit. But you’re still not telling me _why_ Irina came to me that night at the restaurant.”

Konstantin grimly motioned a hand towards his daughter. “Tell her, Irina.”

The girl rolled her eyes.

“We were just texting back and forth, you know—she was bored, and she wanted my help with Mandarin,” Irina began. “She is very bad at it. I do not know how…there is no verb conjugation, and it—“

“_Irina._”

“Извините. Anyway, she would _always_ talk about Eve. How she’d probably like the diner, with its shitty greasy American food, but especially how she’d like the people ‘because they’re all dumb and too nice to strange Russian assassins that appear in their town,’” Irina said in a terrible imitation of Villanelle.

“Mhmm,” Konstantin hummed. “Keep going.”

Irina sighed. “She just wanted to know if you were alive. She paid me to track you down, which was an easy enough job. You are not too good at hiding, you know that right?" She looked down at her hands. "But then I thought I could maybe..._help_ bring you together.”

Eve was exasperated. “So, what…you came to me that night to basically _set me up_ with her like some fucked up game show?”

“Well yes, exactly like that, now that you mention it,” Irina admitted. “That day at the diner, when you first showed up, she was _so_ mad at me. She almost blew her cover, and then that Nina woman showed up. But after she wanted to play along, at least until the job was finished. She was going to tell you the truth...eventually."

Eve sighed, reaching across the table and ripping off a piece of Irina’s croissant and chewing it noisily while the girl looked on in horror.

“Hey!”

“So where is she now? Can’t you text her or something?” Eve asked, gesturing to Irina’s phone.

“She trashed her burner, after,” Konstantin said. “Part of the agreement with them was that she disappear after taking care of Byrne. Completely.”

“How can she even trust them, trust that they won’t eventually come for her?”

“She can’t. But she wanted out, and she took her chance. I do not know why—she was making good money, believe me.”

“And you’re telling me you really have no idea where she is?”

Konstantin shook his head. “For once, I do not.”

His phone rang suddenly, and he apologized as he stood up to take the call, excusing himself.

“I am sorry, about what happened…and dragging you into the situation,” Irina said, now that they were alone. “I can make it up to you! Is there a language you want to learn? I recently started Bengali.”

Eve chuckled, holding up a hand. “I’m good.”

“She told me about what happened in Rome,” Irina said, after a few beats of silence had passed between them. “Before she…ya know…” she made a quick finger gun and mouthed ‘pow pow.’

Eve closed her eyes tiredly.

“You should listen to her. She’s annoying, but she has a lot she wants to say. Especially about how she feels about you.”

“And how am I supposed to listen to her when she’s run to god knows where?”

Irina smirked, waggling her eyebrows. “Aren’t you the agent that tracked her down the first time?”

Eve watched her for a moment, thinking that she had truly been talking too much with Villanelle, when a thought popped into her head.

“Pull out your phone.”

“Huh?”

“I know how you’re going to make it up to me. Book me a ticket to Alaska.”


	14. Salmon Capital of the World

She realized shortly after directing Irina to find her a flight to Alaska that she really had no idea what the hell she was doing.

Flying? To _Alaska_? Almost twenty hours? For an assassin that had somehow wormed her way into every crevice of her mind, but that she barely, _truly _knew?

Konstantin sighed disappointedly when he came back into the café and found his daughter scrolling through flights. Eve almost wanted to sigh along with him.

He grabbed the phone out of her hands and put it face down on the table, returning to his seat. “What are you doing?”

Irina looked to Eve, who sat back in her seat.

“I can find her. I owe it to myself—to both of us—at this point to at least hear what she has to say to me.”

“Eve,” Konstantin started, pausing to pick the phone back up and scroll through a bit. He chuckled. “While I think you are a very talented agent, Alaska is very big. She is like…needle in haystack.”

“I’ve done it before. Europe is _much _bigger.”

“Actually, it’s—”

“Irina, shut up,” both Eve and Konstantin said in almost perfect unison.

The girl picked up her phone sulkily before standing and muttering, “I’m going to get a donut.”

Konstantin turned to make sure she was headed to the counter before facing Eve once more.

“Why.”

“Why? Why what?”

“I know I may not always show it or it may not be obvious, but…I am trying to protect her. I want good for her. She doesn’t want to kill anymore? Fine. I help her. She wants to escape The Twelve? Fine. I help her. So now I want to know from you, why? You just want to talk to her, you want to kill her?”

Eve rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms.

“I don’t want to kill her,” she admitted. “I thought I did, once.”

She reached for her coffee cup but stopped short when she realized it was empty.

“Throughout all of this, I think Villanelle was allowing me to meet Oksana, in her own weird way. Who she really is, without all the bravado and arrogance. Still herself, in many ways, but also softer…and sweeter,” Eve smiled, almost wistfully.

“I’ve seen those parts of her before, but they were brief and followed by…traumatic events,” Eve continued, crossing her arms. “I just need to know what’s real. I want to look her in the eyes and know I’m talking to _her_ and not someone pretending to be somebody else.”

“And you think you’ll find that in Alaska?”

She purses her lips for a moment before answering. “Yes. I do.”

“Do you love her?” he asked, straight-faced, judging her response.

“Duh,” Irina cut in, plopping back in her seat with a powdered donut in hand.

Eve grappled with the question for a moment, as she seemed to do with all things regarding Villanelle.

“I…It’s hard for me to admit it,” she finally said. “It’s hard for me to admit that I even _like _her after the way my life has completely spiraled since the day I met her. When I look back on everything—the chasing, the running, the stabbing, the shooting…_Bill_,” she whispered his name as if it hurt her. “I feel the pain, but I also realize I have felt more _alive_ than I ever did before.”

“I don’t know if that’s love, but I feel a hell of a lot more for her than I did my own husband,” she said.

Konstantin let her words sink in a bit and quietly assessed them before pulling a pen out of his front pocket, tearing off a piece of napkin and scribbling something. Irina attempted to look over his shoulder at the words but he edged her away with his elbow before sliding the napkin across the table to Eve.

She looked down at it and her lips quirked into a small smile, before glancing up at him confusedly. “You just said you _didn’t _know where she is this time.”

“I don’t really,” he shrugged. “But I listened when she would run her mouth about ‘Alaska this and Alaska that…’”

She stood and quickly kissed him on the cheek before grabbing the handle of her suitcase next to the table. “Thank you, Konstantin. Really.”

* * *

She gave herself a day to rest before jetting off again, enough time to research the town Konstantin had scrawled across the napkin. She booked a room at a hotel close to Heathrow and nibbled on a pre-packaged sandwich as she clicked through a Wikipedia page.

_Ketchikan, Alaska_. Population: 8,000. Salmon Capital of the World.

It would take her nearly two days to even get there, with layovers in Reykjavík and Seattle that were already making her want to pull her hair out and she hadn’t even stepped foot on the first plane.

Rybka mewled at her from the end of the hotel bed, her tail looping casually to and fro. Eve closed the lid of her laptop and went to scratch the cat’s head.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself before stuffing the rest of the sandwich in her mouth.

* * *

Ketchikan International Airport was a dreary, fluorescent light-filled place compared to the beautiful sights that awaited Eve once she stepped outside.

Rybka’s crate sat attached to the top of her suitcase that she rolled behind her on the way to the Budget car rental next to the airport, where she secured a small economy car to get her around the town. She strapped Rybka’s crate in the back before getting in the driver’s seat.

The car puttered down Tongass Avenue, a stretch of road leading to the Inn at Creek Street, where she booked the cheapest room she could find that allowed pets. To her right were mountains looming across the narrow channel that separated Gravina Island from Revillagigedo Island, which is where Ketchikan sits, silent and brooding in a low, hazy fog.

Once Tongass became Water Street, it was clear that Ketchikan was a fishing town, as she passed various piers and docks and bait and tackle shops that dotted the roadway.

By the time she pulled into the parking lot behind the inn, it was dinnertime and people were out and about on the main streets. She kept her eyes peeled as if she would be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Villanelle walking down the sidewalk.

She may be lucky, but she wasn’t _that _lucky.

She checked into her room, opening the crate to let Rybka roam and putting some clothes in the drawers.

She was giving herself a week. Partially because that was all that she could afford at the moment, and also because more than that would be entirely too desperate. But she was confident that she wouldn’t even need a week—maybe not even a day.

She was good at finding people, and she was fucking fantastic at finding Villanelle.

* * *

She grabbed takeout from a little Thai place across the street and then passed out an hour or so later still in her jeans, Rybka curled up on the pillow beside her head.

She awoke at 6 a.m., pulling open the curtains to see a rainy day ahead. It was still slightly dark out, so she took an extra-long shower, washing the exhaustion and airplane smell away down the drain. After drying off with possibly the scratchiest towel known to man, she pulled on a pair of dark slacks and a dark green turtleneck.

She patted Rybka on the head before making her way downstairs, rain jacket folder over her arm. The inn provided free breakfast, so she grabbed a muffin on her way out.

When she made it to her car, she sat for a few moments in silence, because despite all the travel it took to get here, she wasn’t exactly sure what her next steps were. Does she ask around for a beautiful blonde woman with a Russian accent? But then again, Villanelle hadn’t been here that long so who would possibly know her that well to remember.

There was also a small nagging thought in the back of her mind that Villanelle wasn’t here at all.

She pushed that thought away and pulled back onto the main street.

* * *

Four days.

She had spent four days so far in Ketchikan without one single lead. Perhaps she had been too confident in her ability to find Villanelle, or maybe her inner voice was right and she wasn’t even here.

She stopped in shops and restaurants, even going so far as to show Villanelle’s picture at the slim chance that someone may have recognized her in passing somewhere in town.

But no, not one person even _thought_ they had encountered her.

It had actually come to the point that people were beginning to recognize Eve because word had gotten around that a tourist was bugging everyone about whether they’d seen a random woman or not.

So here she sat, in a diner somewhere off Tongass Ave, digging into a chicken pot pie. She was running out of options, and she didn’t want to come to terms with it yet.

_You have three more days, just stick it out. Maybe she fishes off one of the piers early mornings or something. I think she likes to fish. Actually I don’t know that. _Eve scoffed at the recent text from Irina.

She had been up and down the many piers in Ketchikan with no such luck. She scooped another forkful of pot pie into her mouth sadly, still staring at her phone.

She looked up briefly when a burly man in a camo outfit came into the diner, stomping a bit as he made his way to a seat at the counter. The waitress poured him a coffee sympathetically.

“Everything ok, James?”

Eve tried not to stare as she eavesdropped on the conversation.

“It happened again,” he replied angrily. He banged a fist on the counter in frustration.

The waitress reached out and patted his hand. “Have you tried talking to her?”

“Yes! She pretends she doesn’t understand English. I _know_ she understands me,” he insisted. “You can’t just steal someone’s fish and not understand what you’re doing.”

Eve was intrigued but chalked it up to a local crazy that he was most likely harping on. That was until he muttered “blonde Russian bitch” under his breath.

Eve leapt up from her table at the words, scaring both the waitress and James, who turned to look at her in surprise.

“Everything ok, ma’am?” The waitress asked.

Eve walked up to James, pointing a finger at him. “Wh-what did you just say?”

He looked down shamefully. “Apologies, ma’am. I shouldn’t have-“

“No, no, no. I don’t care about that.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, swiping until she found a selfie she had taken with Villanelle at Bryne’s event. She held it up to the man. “Is this her? The uh, the blonde Russian you-know-what?”

He squinted at the picture a bit before nodding. “Oh yeah. Yeah, that’s her.”

She stashed the phone back in her pocket excitedly.

“Where is she?”


	15. Happy Days Are Here Again

According to James, Villanelle was most likely living on Pennock Island, a three-mile stretch of land nestled between Gravina and Revillagigedo. He had attempted to confront Villanelle over the stolen fish one day only to watch her clamber onto a departing ferry to the island before he could get to her.

“Darlene, hand me a map,” he motioned toward the waitress. She reached under the bar and passed him a map of the local area. He spread it open on the counter and took a pen from Darlene’s outstretched hand.

“Barely anyone lives on the island—it’s mostly forest. But there’s some cabins, little houses scattered here and there,” he explained, pointing to the island on the map. He made a circle with the pen. “The ferry will drop you here. Now I don’t know where she may be living exactly, but I do know the Richardsons recently moved out of this cabin here—“ he made another circle.

“So that’s your best bet,” he concluded, folding up the map and handing it over to Eve.

“Thank you for this,” she replied, tucking the map in her bag. “Can I buy you lunch or dinner or something in return?”

He laughed but shook his head. “Just _please_ ask her to stop stealing my fish.”

* * *

Eve boards the ferry with glimmering hope and a hot coffee, which she holds between her hands as she leans on the railing of the boat, watching the dark water pass beneath.

When, or rather _if_ she sees Villanelle, she’s not yet sure what her first instincts may be. Yell at her? Sure. Throw her coffee at her? Possibly. Kiss her? Well, it’s not off the list of possibilities.

There’s hardly anyone else on the boat, besides a small family that look like they’re headed to Pennock to camp. Eve laughs to herself thinking about how they’re unknowingly traveling to an almost desolate island that is currently inhabited by a ruthless international assassin.

Well, maybe not so ruthless anymore.

Once the ferry was docked, Eve tossed her coffee cup in a nearby bin and stepped off, pulling her raincoat tighter around herself as a light drizzle starts. She pulls the map out of her pocket, tracing her finger along a small path leading to the Richardson’s cabin. It was a little less than a half mile walk from the ferry dock, so she tucked the map back into her pocket, flipped up the hood of her jacket, and started walking.

The island was eerily silent, and coupled with the rainy weather and fog that seemed to perpetually blanket the general area, it set up for a horror movie situation. Eve imagined Freddy Krueger leaping through the trees, swiping his razored-hand at her.

There was the distant sound of a woodpecker somewhere high up and ahead of her, but other than that, she might have assumed she was completely alone. She had been walking for only five minutes when she realized she was ill prepared to traverse the muddy path she was on—her tennis shoes had a thick layer coating the bottoms as the rain continued to come down. She was suddenly very jealous of Rybka, who she imagined was probably warm, curled and content on her pillow.

But before Eve could pity herself any longer, the cabin came into focus through the trees. It was a pretty large A-frame that backed up to the water. She could see a dock behind it that stretched several feet out, with a small fishing boat tied to the end. A bright blue kayak also sat on the shore next to the dock, its paddles thrown haphazardly in the grass in front of it.

Eve felt a slight twinge of disappointment as she approached the house and noticed there weren’t any lights on inside, or any signs of movement. She was initially fearful to approach it because the front window was so large that Villanelle probably could have seen her coming for a while. But there wasn’t anyone inside that she could see, and her knock on the door went unanswered. She tried the doorknob, for old times’ sake, but it seems her luck had run out in that department.

Instead, she stepped up to the window, cupping her hands around her eyes and leaning in to peer through the glass. There was a roomy living room, complete with a couch and a TV hanging on the wall, and a beautiful kitchen that looked relatively untouched. She couldn’t make out any positive signs that someone was actually living there until she noticed some dishes in the drying rack next to the sink.

_Gotcha._

She knocked again, louder this time, and waited a full minute before making her way around the house to the back. She stepped quietly, still afraid to risk alerting anyone—or any_thing_—in the area to her presence.

She heard Villanelle before she saw her. There were faint grunts coming from around the back of the cabin, and she closed her eyes tightly and tried to erase the memory of the last time she heard those sounds from her mind.

She shook her head to escape those thoughts and sidled up to the corner of the cabin, craning her head around to try to catch a glimpse of the woman.

She looked just in time to see the axe in Villanelle’s hands come swinging down, its sharp blade sweating from the rain, almost singing as it sliced…into the top-end of a log, splitting it cleanly in half.

Villanelle was wearing hiking boots, dark blue jeans—_jeans!_—and a flannel jacket that was zipped up to her chin. Her hair was tied into a messy bun and there was perspiration coating her face, though Eve couldn’t tell if it was sweat or rain, and she dragged the back of her arm across her forehead as she took a quick break, breathing heavily all the while. She turned briefly to look out at the water, and that’s when Eve realized she had earbuds in, and she found herself curious as to what she was listening to.

She reveled in the moment of finding her, letting it sink in—the feeling of seeing her without being seen. She could just as easily turn back around and leave her there, content with finding her alive and healthy and getting on with her life. Perhaps that’s what she _should_ do.

But Eve never does what she’s supposed to.

So she steps out from behind the cabin as Villanelle is on an upswing, watches as she freezes and locks eyes with Eve, axe held evenly above her head. A breath passes between them before the axe falls again, lodging itself in one of the previously halved pieces.

The sound reverberates in the silence.

“Eve,” she manages to whisper. She yanks the earbuds out of her ears. “Are you….what are you doing here?”

Eve doesn’t answer, but walks confidently over to Villanelle so quickly that Villanelle starts backing away and almost trips over her wood pile. When Eve is finally standing before her it’s like pure emotion that picks up her hand itself and smacks it across Villanelle’s cheek.

It’s for the past, it’s for what’s happened, it’s for the scar on her back.

It’s _fast_, and Villanelle barely moves at the contact, so then they’re left just staring at each other, panting.

“Like hiccups,” Eve finally said.

The corners of Villanelle’s mouth quirk up in amusement. She makes a move, and Eve knows exactly what the woman wants to do next, so she puts up a hand to stop her.

“No,” she grounds out forcefully. “Not…yet. We need to talk.”

Villanelle nods compliantly, stripping off her tactical gloves and throwing them to the wayside. “Yes, of course, come inside. We can have a drink, talk. Whatever you want.”

She turns and opens a sliding glass door off the back of the cabin, waving Eve inside.

Eve makes her way inside, stepping first into a small hallway with a few closed doors on either side that eventually opens into the kitchen and living room she had seen minutes before. She pulls out one of the bar seats at the kitchen counter and takes a seat while Villanelle follows her patiently. She goes into the kitchen and open the fridge, but Eve can see even from her vantage point that there’s not much inside.

“I have, um…I have water?”

Eve almost smiles, but doesn’t want to give her that satisfaction yet. “Water is fine.”

Villanelle pulls out two glasses from the cabinet and stands on the other side of the counter from Eve as she pours them both a glass. She takes a sip as she stares expectantly at Eve, who eventually relents.

“Konstantin,” she says.

“Konstantin?”

“He told me where you were. Or rather, where he thought you were. I guess you’ve mentioned Alaska to him before; some particulars.”

Villanelle groans, rolling her eyes.

“Of course.” Another beat of silence. “So…are you…angry? With me?”

“I am angry with you for _so_ much,” Eve replies, trying to keep her voice light. “You lied to me, Villanelle. For _months_.”

“I had to! You don’t understand.”

“I do—Irina told me all about your scheme.”

“_Der’mo_. Stupid cow,” Villanelle muttered. “Okay, yes, that is true but I did not know she would tell you to find me! When you showed up that day, at the diner, it was so hard not to tell you. But it would have put you in danger.”

“Because you’ve never put me in danger before. You _shot_ me, remember?”

Villanelle did actually look guilty at that.

“Eve, if they knew you were there—if they thought you believed, in any way, that I remembered, they wouldn’t have hesitated in killing you.”

Eve finished her glass of water.

“So?”

“What?”

“Would that have upset you? If they killed me?”

Villanelle laid her palms flat on the counter, leaning in towards Eve. “Yes. You must know that.”

“How can I when you were pretending to be someone else?”

“I wasn’t really though. And I think you _do_ know that.”

“Who were you then?”

Villanelle came around the counter, settling into the seat next to Eve’s, dominating her space—as always.

“I was...me. Different, yes, but it was always me. Just the me you’ve never met before. That you never got the chance to.”

“And now? Who are you now?”

Villanelle looks down at herself. “I am…someone that wears Old Navy jeans,” she said in disgust.

Eve burst out laughing, finally breaking the somewhat tense bubble they were in.

“They’re all I can afford right now,” Villanelle grumbled pathetically, pouting. “I am selling fish and firewood for now, but I will find something. A cool job." She pours herself more water. "I am quitting them. The Twelve. So…no money. I used my savings to buy this cabin.”

“Konstantin told me. That you were trying to get out."

“The fat man just tells you everything, does he?”

Eve smiled softly, reaching out a hand to smooth a stray hair behind Villanelle’s ear. She kept her hand there, letting it travel slowly down to cup her jaw. Villanelle nuzzles into it, sighing.

“I wanted to kill you, you know?”

“No you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You _didn’t_.”

Eve leans in closer, lets her thumb reach out to trace her lips in a single swipe.

“Maybe I didn’t. But I did hate you, for a while.”

“What changed?”

Eve hums.

“Well, I saw you for you, I guess.” She moved closer. “According to Dolores.”

Villanelle breathed out a laugh and was close enough that her warm breath hit Eve's mouth.

“Who’s Dolores?”

“Shut up," Eve whispered. 

And then they finally connected.


	16. ...The Skies Above Are Clear Again

It’s hungry. Fierce. Feral.

_Different._

When Villanelle had fucked her last time, they were on a different precipice.

Before, they were hurtling towards a separate reality—one where Villanelle really did lose her memory, where Mitch Byrne lived and where they maybe bought a home together in Delaware and got married and settled down like two love-struck lesbians.

Now, the trajectory had changed. Things had shifted, and they were technically free—for however long The Twelve allowed them to be.

When they fucked this time, it was with that renewed realization that no one was hiding anything or running from anyone. They were where they were meant to be.

Villanelle took her hand and dragged her from her seat at the counter to the hallway at the back of the house, where she pushed open a door into the master bedroom. It was incredibly sparse for Villanelle’s tastes, only because she didn’t have the time to decorate. Or the funds.

There was a queen-sized bed in the center of the room, crisply made, and a large dresser pushed towards the back wall. Besides that, there wasn’t much else to the room.

Not that Eve had much time to take in the details.

Villanelle was kissing her again, gently holding her face between her hands; like she was holding on for dear life. She felt a hand go to the back of her head, and suddenly her hair sprung free from where she had tied it up.

“Much better,” Villanelle husked, pulling away for a breath.

Eve returned the favor, releasing Villanelle’s hair from its messy bun and running her fingers through the blonde locks that hung around her shoulders.

“Mm. Yes,” she agreed.

She squealed as Villanelle lifted her up in her arms and deposited her on the bed, crawling on top of her. Above them was a skylight in the ceiling, giving Eve a clear view of the afternoon sky.

“Make that noise again,” she told Eve.

“That’s your job.”

Villanelle just smirked in response, pressing her lips to the side of Eve’s neck.

She had her knees bracketed on either side of Eve’s waist as she straddled her, and she pulled away momentarily to shrug off her flannel jacket. She then moved to take off her t-shirt but was stopped by Eve’s hands.

“Allow me.”

She pulled the shirt up and over, revealing a simple black laced bra. Below it was the scar she had made, silvery against Villanelle’s skin. She rubbed a thumb over it reverently, before reaching her hands up to undo the bra’s clasp.

Villanelle groaned and threw her head back as Eve took a nipple into her mouth and she subconsciously grinded her hips down into Eve in response. Eve used the distraction to flip their positions, now hovering above Villanelle.

She let her hands wander down to her jeans, tugging on the waistband.

“Hmm. Rockstar skinny jeans?”

Villanelle rolled her eyes. “Shut up. They’re actually kind of comfortable.”

She lifted her hips as Eve tugged them down her legs, throwing them in the growing pile of clothes on the floor behind her. Next came the lace underwear that probably cost more than Eve’s entire wardrobe, and then finally—_finally—_Villanelle was naked beneath her.

“How is this fair? I am naked, and you are fully clothed.”

Eve put a hand over her mouth, silencing her, and then pressed her other hand between her thighs.

“Shhh.”

She dipped a finger between her folds and gasped. Christ, she was already so wet.

_She may have said that out loud._

Villanelle noticed and smiled.

“I’ve been wet since I watched you walking towards the cabin in your cute little raincoat. I had to run out back _really _fast."

“You dick.”

Of course Villanelle had seen her coming—she was Villanelle.

The woman laughed at her but it was cut short when Eve suddenly plunged two fingers inside her, hooking them upward.

“Fuck, _Eve_,” she moaned, pushing her hips up towards her fingers desperately.

Eve gladly obliged, pumping her digits in and out before adding a third finger and pressing her thumb to her clit, moving in small circles. Villanelle nearly screamed as her back arched, continuing to meet Eve thrust for thrust.

She brought their lips together again, feeling confident as Villanelle basically whined against her. She buried her nose into her neck as their hips rocked together, tongue peeking out to taste the sweat that still lingered on her skin.

Villanelle’s fingers were grasping at the back of her shirt as Eve pulled back to look down at her. Her eyes were closed and she was biting her lip almost to the point of drawing blood.

Eve picked up the pace and soon Villanelle’s moans were reaching a crescendo. She arched one final time, her orgasm seemingly freezing her in place.

Eve worked her through it gently, continuing to slowly pump her fingers until Villanelle put a hand on her wrist, halting her. She then guided her fingers to her mouth and Eve felt her own wetness grow as she took them between her lips.

She eventually collapsed on the bed beside her, where they both laid shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the clouds through the skylight.

It was so quiet and Eve couldn’t remember the last time she had experienced such quiet. After living in major cities for so long, she was used to the honking of horns or a distant ambulance as her ambiance.

“I love you,” Villanelle murmured, breaking the silence and turning to look at Eve. “I mean it. I love you, whether you believe it now or not.”

Eve continued looking up through the skylight and let the heat of Villanelle’s gaze simmer on her skin for a moment.

A bird crossed her field of vision and then another shortly after, following closely in its wake.

She turned.

“I love you too.”

* * *

The rest of their night was spent in a similar fashion, with Villanelle eventually getting her wish in getting Eve naked.

After multiple orgasms between them, Eve ran a bath for them both while Villanelle poured them each a glass of wine that she had dug out from the cabinets.

She stepped into the bathroom with the glasses, still stark naked.   
  


“You know you have a huge window, right? Like someone could have seen you a mile away, especially now that it’s dark.”

“It’s quite voyeuristic, don’t you think?” she responded, nipping at Eve’s ear. “Sexy.”

Eve rolled her eyes and took the wine glasses as Villanelle stepped into the tub, lowering herself into the hot water. She took the glasses back as Eve joined and mirrored her at the other end of the tub.

Villanelle held out her glass towards Eve.

“To us.”

Eve reached forward to clink their glasses and grinned over the rim as she took a sip.

“To us,” she echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this. Thanks for reading and sticking through this!
> 
> Tweet at me in the interim - @villanellesrobe


	17. An End To A Beginning

Eve always imagined an ending to their story, but this was never the chapter she conceptualized.

She always imagined _red_—bloodshed, anger, pain—the only clear ending to their story. One of them had to die, surely. Peace was never an option for them.

Until it was.

Their life in Alaska was quiet and simple.

_Mostly._

They’re currently sitting in Villanelle’s fishing boat, floating not too far from the cabin as Villanelle attempts to catch their dinner.

She should have expected trouble when Villanelle turned to her before pushing off the dock and innocently asked, “You can swim, right?”

Eve’s abrupt screech when Villanelle started to literally rock the boat minutes later shakes the birds from the trees and Villanelle’s laughter soon after echoed around them.

It must have been such a quiet island, until Villanelle moved there.

Eve reached over the side of the boat and splashed water towards the girl.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You should have seen your face, Eve. It was very funny.”

She stood up and proceeded to do an exaggerated recreation of Eve’s yelling.

“Like a cat—like Rybka! Are you afraid of water, Eve?”

Eve watched her with a scowl, then gripped both sides of the boat and rocked them violently side to side, tossing Villanelle into the water.

“Really?!” she sputtered as she came to the surface.

This time, it was Eve’s peals of laughter that surrounded them.

“Sorry, darling. You kind of deserved that.”

She climbed back into the boat clumsily, and Eve dug out a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. She glared angrily out at the water, shaking slightly and ignoring Eve.

“Oh, come on. You can’t seriously be mad.”

More silence.

“You almost threw _me_ in the water earlier!”

Still nothing, save for a petulant sigh.

“Ok, what will it take to get you talking? A kiss to say I’m sorry?”

One of Villanelle’s eyebrows quirked interestedly, but still no audible response was given. Eve rolled her eyes as she realized where the one-sided conversation was most likely heading.

“No.”

Villanelle turned towards her, smirking devilishly.

“We are _not_ having sex on a boat in open water, Villanelle. Absolutely not.” _Maybe she really is a voyeur_, Eve thought to herself.

While Eve was able to stick to her guns on that almost completely, she was not immune to Villanelle’s persuasive nature—which is how she ended up strewn over one of the boat’s benches, once again gripping the sides tightly, bottoms off and half covered by the towel while Villanelle ate her out underneath.

This time, it was a different type of screaming that shook the birds from the trees.

* * *

Villanelle caught two huge salmon soon after their…excursion.

Eve watched in total fascination later that evening as she diligently cleaned the fish, removing the scales and skin with her fillet knife. She then proceeded to remove the innards and cut the fish into smaller fillets before seasoning them.

Rybka meowed with fervor at her feet, reaching out a paw every once and a while to bat at Villanelle’s pant leg, hoping for a taste. Eve had gone back to Ketchikan the morning after their first night together to get Rybka and the rest of her belongings before returning to the cabin, where Villanelle pretended to be annoyed to have the cat back in her life.

Now, the girl was subtly sneaking the cat pieces of fish while she thought Eve wasn’t looking.

Eve wanted to help cook, so she stood next to Villanelle, hip-to-hip, and cut up some fresh vegetables while she grilled the fish on the stovetop.

It was kind of magical, watching Villanelle live a domestic life. Watching hands that have taken multiple lives run a blade through the belly of a fish with almost professional precision. It wasn’t that she was softer, but it was almost like she was more carefree.

Eve had to imagine that this was the way she always was when no one else was around—so she asked her as much.

“Mhmm,” she smiled at Eve. “My father taught me to fish and how to prepare them when I was little. We would take the boat out very early in the morning and just sit and talk for hours. Or sometimes not talk at all, just wait. It was nice.”

“What about your mom?”

Villanelle was silent for a moment, her back to Eve as she flipped the fish over.

“She was…not as nice.”

She plated the fish and took the vegetables from Eve, tossing them into the pan.

“What about your family?”

Eve smiled tightly. “My father died when I was younger and my mother is…around. We don’t talk much. We were never that close.”

“But you were close with your father?”

“Definitely. He encouraged me to go the investigative route, actually.”

“Oh? So do I have him to thank for your ability to track me down?”

“Well, certainly not my mother, who pretty much balked at the idea of me going into that line of work.”

“I’m glad that you did,” Villanelle responded, scooping vegetables onto each of their plates and carrying them to the dining table. She walked back to Eve in the kitchen and kissed her soundly against the counter.

“Who knows where we’d be otherwise,” she added.

Eve laughed, resting her forehead against Villanelle’s.

“Who knows.”

* * *

That day wasn’t the only time the two would have a squabble on the water, as they took the kayak out a few days later and it ended with Eve smacking Villanelle upside the head with one of the paddles (on purpose).

Eve more than made up for the slight bruise it left later that night.

* * *

After almost two weeks of Eve being at the cabin, they finally ventured off the island together for some groceries and other supplies.

They stood at the back of the ferry, watching the island get farther and farther away. Eve stood at the railing, Villanelle pressed tightly behind with her chin on her shoulder.

Eve was reminded again that it all felt so peaceful. Too peaceful.

“How long will it last?” Eve finally asked.

She knew Villanelle understood the question, though it took a moment for a reply to form.

“I don’t know.”

* * *

They were lying in bed together one night, Rybka sleeping between their feet, when it happened.

There was a slight bang that came from the front of the cabin, which sent Villanelle flying out of bed with a gun at the ready, as well as a silencer that she was steadily twisting on.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Eve whispered.

Villanelle put up a hand to silence her as she took slow steps towards the bedroom door. Eve watched from the bed as she slipped into the hallway, listening for any signs of trouble.

Then there was only silence as Eve assumed Villanelle was scouting out the area.

Eve was next to fly out of bed when she heard a grunt of pain come from the living room. She ran down the hallway, flicking the light on her way and revealing the sight of Villanelle on the floor wrestling with a woman.

With Kate.

“Give…up…” Villanelle groaned, an arm locked around Kate’s neck as she struggled.

Kate dug her elbow back into Villanelle’s stomach, surprising her and forcing her to lose her grip. Eve watched in horror as Kate gained the upper hand, knocking the gun from Villanelle’s grasp and onto the floor. It skidded to a stop in front of Eve.

Kate hauled Villanelle up by her hair, pressing the sharp end of a knife to her neck. Eve quickly reached down and picked up the gun, aiming it right at Kate, who laughed.

“Let her go,” Eve stated.

“Do you even know how to use that?” Kate sneered.

“_Let her go_.”

“What do you want?” Villanelle broke in. “Did they send you?”  
  


Kate laughed again, her eyes wild.

“You know what’s _really_ funny? They _didn’t_ send me. For once in their fucking lives they were going to just…let someone go. Someone useful.”

She tightened her hold on Villanelle’s hair.

“But when I wanted out, it was, ‘We’re sorry. Stay or die.’” she said spitefully. “So why should you get to be happy?”

“We can help you get out,” Villanelle said suddenly. “Konstantin. He can help.”

Kate tilted her head back to laugh again.

“Konstantin is dead. How do you think I found you?”

Eve’s knees buckled at the revelation, and the gun almost dropped from her hands. Villanelle seemed to have no reaction to the blow, though Eve could have sworn her eyes looked glassy.

“Now I will do them a favor. I will become their _star assassin_.”

The knife at Villanelle’s neck dug in closer, until a small bead of blood trickled down to her collarbone.

Eve tensed her jaw and cocked the gun, once again catching the attention of Kate.

“Oh please do. I’d love to see this.”

She locked eyes with Villanelle, whose lips quirked into an assenting smile.

After getting shot, most heal from their injury and move on—but Eve wanted to heal and get stronger. So when her healing was done, she learned to take a gun apart and put it back together. To hold it steady; not to tremble.

And to be the one to shoot instead of being shot—and damn, she was a good shot.

She spent most of her life getting used to people doubting her. Her mother, Niko, even Carolyn. And now Kate.

It took great pleasure to prove someone wrong, and this time, it only took one bullet—entering Kate’s occipital lobe and burying into her brain stem. A mortal wound.

Villanelle immediately embraced her, taking the gun from her hand and throwing it on the kitchen table.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered into her curls.

Eve sighed contentedly and pulled back, placing a hand on either side of Villanelle’s face and kissing her gently.

The last time she killed for Villanelle, it was followed by shock and anger.

It ended with _red._

But this time, there was a certain reconciliation with it—a peace, if you will.

“That’s the last time I kill for you,” she said. It wasn’t a threat or an ultimatum, just a fact.

Villanelle closed her eyes and smiled, nodding.

“It is.”

* * *

* * *

A postcard arrives almost a year later, addressed simply to _V & E _and sent to a P.O. box that only a select few had the address for. It was sandwiched between a few bills as well as a letter from Kenny.

Eve kicked the door to the cabin shut behind her as she carried in the mail as well as a few bags of groceries, dumping the latter on the kitchen counter. She walked out back to find Villanelle tending to their small garden, pulling weeds in the heat.

She looked up as Eve came out, standing and taking off her gloves.

“You took too long.”

Eve rolled her eyes.

“_You _wanted pistachio ice cream and Safeway was out, so I had to go to the Walmart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Villanelle grumbled, pulling Eve in for a kiss.

Eve handed her a glass of iced tea that she had grabbed from the kitchen and they sat together at the outdoor dining table, watching the water quietly for a moment.

Eve tossed the mail on the table, sifting through the few bills.

“Got another letter from Kenny. Maybe he’s finally writing to tell us he shagged Elena,” she joked as she opened an electric bill.

Villanelle chuckled, opening Kenny’s letter and skimming it.

“Nope, he only wrote to tell you he wet the bed again,” she said.

“Stop it,” Eve admonished, snatching the letter from her fingers. She read it over as Villanelle tore up some unnecessary mail, until the postcard fell out from between the envelopes.

“What’s this?”  
  


Eve stopped reading for a moment to see what it was. “Huh. I didn’t notice that. What does it say?”

She kept reading Kenny’s letter but stopped when she was realized she still didn’t get a response. She put down the paper to find Villanelle staring at the postcard, tears in her eyes.

“Vill? You ok?”

That seemed to snap her out of it, and she quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before nodding. She looked at the postcard for a few more moments and then passed it to Eve.

There weren’t many words on the card, and the handwriting was basically chicken scratch—she recognized it immediately.

_Now we are both free. Talk soon. –K_

She flipped over the card to see a picture on the other side. It was a drawing of a opossum hanging from a tree by its tail, with the words ‘Hang in there!’ scrawled across the top.

Eve put down the postcard and they smiled at each other, and it was like a sigh of relief that they didn’t even know they were holding was released.

Not every story ends with death.

Not theirs.

_Not this one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support, comments, kudos, etc. throughout this story. I really hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing fanfiction in a very long time, and my first time publishing on AO3. I work professionally as a financial journalist in NYC so I'm using this as my creative outlet. Hoping everyone enjoyed the first chapter and will come along for the ride. It will be interesting.
> 
> Also, I grew up in Delaware, for those wondering about that choice.


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